Planes, Trains and Orthotics: A Middle-Age Woman's Guide to Travel

Our first day and a half has been lovely.  We have seen so much including our requisite three hour walking tour, roaming through the National Museum and a castle, taking a cruise and enjoying the beautiful lights (not the rides) at Tivoli Garden.  But the thing that has kept me completely off kilter, has been the food. I always thought that Bob and I were “foodies.”  We love a good glass of red wine, some crusty bread with a tasty olive oil from Sicily or Spain and a delicious fish or bowl of pasta.  But until coming to Copenhagen, I didn’t realize that we were just not hip enough to ever be considered a real foodie. The restaurant voted best in the world is located here in Copenhagen, and while we do not plan to eat there as we might have to give up one of our children to pay for the meal, it appears that every other restaurant in the city is attempting to knock that restaurant off the high horse that the Michelin stars have placed it upon. We have had two dinners here and each of

I’m really down on airline travel.  I realize that it’s the only way to get to Scandinavia for a long weekend, but I miss the good old days. I remember when Bob and I went on our honeymoon, air travel was still an “event.” Preparation included getting a new piece of Samsonite luggage and dressing up for the trip.  In fact, for our honeymoon, I distinctly recall Wearing a two-piece skirt and top, a sensible heel and carrying on board a “make-up” carry-on case. I fondly remember easily storing all our travel items and having no trouble crossing my legs because I had so much leg room. There was no hauling a 22 inch suitcase into the cabin bin above so as not to get charged for luggage. While I know those days are gone I remained hopeful for this trip because I was taking Scandinavian Airlines. I had never flown this fleet before but figured that citizens from these countries are rated the happiest people in the world and so comfort must mean something to them. I got in the plane, look

It is difficult to believe that Bob and I will be married 35 years this weekend.  We decided to take advantage of a business trip he had this week in London and Copenhagen and spend a long weekend in the Denmark capitol to celebrate. As his work would be completed by Thursday, the plan was that I would fly later in the week and meet him there.  The problem was that my flying solo at home coincided with pool opening week at our house. In our marriage, there are certain things that one of us has sole control over.  For example, I am in charge of the cooking, family and friend birthday management and determining when it is time to flip the mattresses.  Taking care of the pool is COMPLETELY in Bob’s control column. The only time I begrudgingly take over pool tasks is when he is traveling and I have to empty the filter baskets.  This job is so traumatic to me, as all too often, devil-may-care chipmunks and an occasional squirrel meet their untimely demise after running too fast, falling i