Paradise Lost

I  have no memory what it’s like to take a real vacation. I’ve taken trips to lots of places–Paris, Rome, Venice, Amsterdam, Brussels, Istanbul, Tel Aviv, Rabat, Athens, Frankfort, LA, Seattle, Chicago, Pittsburgh, Turks & Caicos, and more–but vacations they were not. I took work with me wherever I went, called the office and clients, obsessed over sales quotas.

About five years ago, I paced the empty ballroom of a resort hotel as I sold my heart out to a potential client. My husband relaxed in the sun. I got the account, but was it worth it?

The work could have waited. My company would surely still be there when I returned. My employees would have been thrilled to have me out of their hair, and my husband would have been happier if I had chilled with him.

I am now determined to take a true vacation by the end of this year. Here’s how I picture it: I will go somewhere and leave my Blackberry in the room. (Maybe I’ll work my up up to actually leaving it at home). I won’t take a bit of work and I won’t call the office. I will, however, check my messages once a day and respond only to the important e-mails.

I will leave a message on my e-mail saying I’m away and to contact me if time is of the essence.

We’ll see if I can do it. When I’m determined, I usually make it work. I stopped smoking 25 years ago and, since then, haven’t had one puff . I stopped drinking two years ago and, in 24 months, haven’t had a single drop of wine or vodka.

But I’m not so sure about this next FOF challenge. They don’t call it Crackberry for nothing.

0 Responses to “Paradise Lost”

  1. Preppy 101 says:

    I have no doubt. YOU can do it. And have more fun than you ever imagined!! xoxo

  2. Toby Wollin says:

    I too have taken too many vacations where I’ve dialed in, hiked to cybercafes, etc. to stay in contact, to make sure people knew that I was still ‘there’. Not worth it. Short tale: my father, who was a doctor, threw a clot into one of his renal arteries in 2000 and thereby got a one-way ticket to Dialysisville. As he lay in his hospital bed after being told what his future was, three times a week, he said, “I’m just sorry that I never went fly fishing in Montana.”
    Fly fishing in Montana? Who knew? He’d never told anyone and because he was a child of the Depression, he thought this fantasy was silly. So he didn’t and all of a sudden – it was too late. That very day I sat down and made a list – not a ‘Bucket List’ – just a short list of things I’d always wanted to do but had never gotten around to doing – things which if I’d been laying there in that bed, I’d have had regrets. My dad is not with us any more, but he left me with a lot of wise thoughts. Here is one: Life is short – it’s dead that lasts a long time.

    • Geri says:

      Hi Toby,

      I LOVE your comment. I was just about to add your blog to the Fab Faves blogs, when I realized you had added it. So smart of you. I am now going to write a comment there.



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