Orlando was awesome. I experienced so much in 72 hours that it will take time to process it all and will never fit in one post. The picture above started off my weekend. The beautiful, talented Kelley comes to Orlando even though she is not a trauma mama. Kelley spoils us all and this year she blessed my friend Lisa and I with these beautiful matching henna tattoos. I have never gotten a tattoo because life has a habit of changing and I have never had a design that I was sure I would still love ten years later. I love Lisa and the tattoo was perfect. I started thinking about having it made into a real tattoo.
One of the activities this year was a scavenger hunt which sent people from house to house to complete activities. We each had an ETAAM passport to get stamped at each house. Right after lunch Saturday, I was decluttering our villa of my mess and found my ETAAM passport. This triggered the realization that I had not seen my real passport when I unpacked Friday night. The real passport was the only ID I brought with me to Orlando and I was going to need it to get home.
I checked my knapsack and my tote bag. Others looked in various vans I had been in and the main house that had been first stop. I called the Orlando airport and waited on hold for while, but it hadn’t been turned in. Tried the airline and they didn’t have it either. I reluctantly called The Dad to update him on a potential problem with me flying home Monday. To say there was a notable lack of support was an understatement. I was feeling more than a little annoyed.
I did find my passport in my bathroom and was greatly relieved. I didn’t call or text The Dad right away and let him stew for a while. He was at the pool with the kids and their friends and I figured a little stewing wouldn’t hurt. My housemates thought my tattoo was beautiful and were encouraging me to make it permanent. The Dad and I exchanged a couple of snippy texts and as the afternoon turned into evening, making it permanent sounded better and better.
I was still pissed three hours later when some of our group were getting ready to leave for a tattoo place. I so wanted to go. I didn’t. Sensible people don’t make decisions that are difficult to change when their decisions are being, at least partly, fueled by anger.
I still am enjoying my henna tattoo. I am still thinking about having it made permanent. But not while I am angry.