Order up. (Caution: therapy blog)

When I go to Krekel's I order a double cheeseburger with ketchup, mustard, and onions and a buttersotch shake. I even say it just like that, "Give me a double cheeseburger with ketchup, mustard, and onions and a butterscotch shake". See I told you. Even if my arteries don't, I forget how many times I've been to Krekel's. And like any customer with a regular order at their favorite grease pit, I've been unfaithful; however, it is those instances that I can count and remember. I once ordered a triple cheeseburger, succumbing to the truly American "bigger is better" mantra, and I once ordered a pork tenderloin based on a recommendation. Those who know Krekel's know that I did not walk away dissapointed from these two cholesterol laden changes-of-pace; however, had my double cheeseburger later confronted me about the deviation I could have truthfully claimed, "but I was thinking about you the whole time". You see, anytime we bore of the norm and stray from it, we will eventually miss that comfort even if what we strayed for is just as good. Happens every time.

I mention Krekel's not because I would right now,trade a kidney for my aforementioned "usual", but because this popped into my mind as the best way to describe how I am feeling about our current situation. France tastes like that giant pork tenderloin on a tiny bun slathered with miracle whip or that overly meaty triple cheeseburger. With one bite I'm doing my best Rachel Ray tasting moan and with the next I'm mad at myself for not sticking with the tried and true double. It's the same here. One minute I'm in absolute shock as I drink coffee and watch the sunrise over the Alps, then I step outside and the cool crisp air reminds me of fall and all the things I love about this season.

The hardest question we are asked by friends and family is also the simplest and most common, "So, how do you like France?". This question is difficult because it intended to be answered in one short sentence or possible even a paragrh, and theoretically, it could be. The problem is that there is more too it than a person can realize at first glance. "Yes", we love France, but "Yes" we miss home. It seems that for every positive about the move, there is an equal and opposite negative.

For instance. The Good: Our kids are learing a second language and culture which could in turn have a very positive impact on them and their future. The Bad: They had to leave friends and family to gain this experience and we know that in a few years they will have to leave another group of new friends. Long term, will the pros outweigh the cons? One can only guess

Another one: The Good: Dana and I get to experience a new culture in a way that only those who live in it can. A truly unique experience. The Bad: We get to wake up every morning and know that something as simple as driving to the store and buying a gallon of milk will conclude in a stressful, day-altering ordeal.

And one more just for me: The Good: I get to hike in the mountains, I will learn to ski, and I may take up serious mountain biking (not just riding a "mountain" bike around Illinois). The Bad: As I sit here in bed awake on what just became my birthday, I know exactly what I would be doing if I were home. I'd have my backpack meticulously prepared for the last day of bowhunting before shotgun season, one of my favorite days of the year. And on my birthday to boot.

So, as I write this, I just took the bite of tenderloin that made me question why I didn't order the double. I'm really doing some questioning. Stick with what you know and you'll always be happy even if you are ignorant. That's what the voices are saying right now; however, rest assured that I have no doubts that I'll soon flip flop back. It could be something big, like my upcoming weekend trip to Barcelona or even something small, like finding a new delicious and only slightly stinky cheese on my next trip to the market. As soon as tomorrow, I'll have reason to be thrilled again. The problem is that I know I'll swing back the other way eventually. I guess what I'm trying to articulate, albeit poorly, is that it's tough. It's tough to keep being the same somewhat sane person you've always been while enduring this fun yet difficult experience. It's tough feeling like your emotions are attached to a yo-yo that just crossed paths with one of the Smothers Brothers on crack. So, if you happen to chat with one of us and we seem down, just call back the next day and it'll all be better.



Footnote:
Sorry for the somewhat serious blog, but as I mentioned before, this is my therapy. Don't read if you don't want to, but it's now 1:33 am and I feel much better than I did an hour ago. Good night.