I know I'm on vacation. I shouldn't be blogging, right?
Or should I?
What makes a travel writer? Someone who travels and writes?
Is it stopping late at night on a long drive, getting a good deal on a La Quinta Inn in Bellingham, and staying awake to the sound of a tired ice machine across the hall?
Or having my husband turn on the room fan just for some white noise to block the sound of that same ice machine at 2:30 a.m.?
Is it waking on a hard bed and wondering why I thought it was comfortable last night?
Or being impressed by an orange shower curtain with a cute slogan written on it?
Happy for a simple continental breakfast that provides fruit for my daughters and I, and waffles for my husband?
Glad to drink tea with huge amounts of sugar and homemade cocoa muffins with raspberry jelly?
Unfortunately, the microwave in our room hadn't been cleaned, but the rest of the place looks good and smells nice.
I think I've taken the romance out of travel writing here. Isn't there supposed to be a room with a view involved?
Wait, that will be this afternoon at Whistler after another long drive.
So, here's my first, flirtatious jab at writing on the go, while around me my family talks, dresses, and prepares for the road.
As always, my last thoughts center on how God involves himself in our lives. I know His presence is right here with us, preparing us for anything, shining his light into and through our lives no matter where we are.