An existential crisis.

Maps have failed me. This may not seem like much to the non-map-people among you, but I assure you this is a weighty matter.

I just tagged along with my parents on their trip to Ireland (in no small part due to an expanding sum of frequent flier miles). Me and my "young eyes" were designated official navigator. Even with two different maps, printed Google directions, a Rick Steves guidebook, and only occasionally helpful road signage, we still had to ask locals more than my injured pride would have liked. (Thanks, though, especially to the nice petrol station attendant in Loughrea, or we would still be driving in circles looking for the entrance to the motorway).

The very core of my identity has been shaken. The alternative is, the country makes no sense. Which can't be true, the people are lovely.

(Read fast!)

If I believed in karma.

(A little late... some of you have already heard this story. Sorry, I'm catching up.)

I was in Seattle for work a couple weeks ago (only 8 more states to go!), and my sister flew up as well since she's off from teaching for the summer. She immediately loved the view from our 32nd floor hotel room. I made some sort of snide remark that she might not be so impressed if there was a fire and we had to climb down 32 flights of stairs.

The very next night? We climbed down 32 flights of stairs. (After being rudely awakened from my dozing during a late night House Hunters International. Don't mock.) And then sat on the sidewalk of downtown Seattle in our pajamas until the fire department gave the all-clear. Coincidence? My sister thinks not.

(If you can see it, that black stuff scattered across the ground is ash...)

(Also, I will admit to having momentary visions of Backdraft while I led our floor's occupants to the stairwell. No worries... I made sure to test the temperature of the doorknob before opening.)

Nostalgia.

I finally just got back to Boston after three years, and it was great to be there for a few days, even if the time seemed to fly by (and two days were sucked up with a conference).

Some things I underestimated:

• How much catching up with friends would feel like I'd never left, even though I haven't seen most of them in person in 3 years.
• How comforting and familiar it would feel to walk through the South End to BUMC.
• Ditto Fenway and the Citgo sign.
• How grating I would find the Boston and greater New England accents. I've never found them pleasant, but after a few years of being surrounded by Southerners, they're more than a little harsh.

Some things I overestimated:

• My patience for public transportation. The waiting, really, not the mode of transit.
• My ability to still navigate around Copley and the Back Bay. (After that, I wisely skipped Beacon Hill)
• That they might have actually cleaned the public restroom in Alewife in the last 3 years.

I'll admit to feeling a little bittersweet at the airport tonight. Hopefully it won't take me three years to get back there the next time!

Pollen Shmollen.

Thanks to our abnormally long, cold winter, everything is now just blooming. At once. Check out the pollen count! Yesterday and today over 5000. Considering it only takes >120 to be considered "extremely high", I'm not sure what this counts as.

My world is coated in a layer of neon green pollen dust. I'm sure my lungs and sinuses aren't getting special treatment. The rain is coming, and I can't wait.

Don't worry, be happy.

I can't count how many times I heard that, or some variation, in the past week. I'm just back in (rainy) Atlanta, after spending seven (excessively sunny) days in the Caribbean with my sister while she took a spring break from her eighth graders. It was lovely.

I'm still deciding how I feel about cruising in general. On the one hand, how else would I explore seven islands in seven days? Which, I loved. Each island was remarkably unique. But, on the whole I think I'm a depth rather than breadth person. Nevertheless, here are the greatest hits:

Puerto Rico

St. John

Dominica

Barbados

St. Lucia

St. Kitts

St. Maarten

It's good to be home, especially for my peeling, reddened skin. But, not having a new beautiful island greeting me when I wake up tomorrow will be something of a let-down.

I am Liz Lemon.

For those who watch 30 Rock, there are a fair number of Liz Lemon moments to which I can (often unfortunately) relate. Some highlights?

• Fashion:

Jack: Alfredo. 2 p.m.
Liz: I'm not dressed for that.
Jack: You're dressed for Burger King. Should we make it Burger King?

• Relationships:

Liz: I just wish I could start a relationship about twelve years in, when you really don't have to try anymore, and you can just sit around together and goof on TV shows, and then go to bed without anybody trying any funny business.

• The to-do list:

Jack: Uh Lemon, I'm going through the guest list for my 50th birthday party and you have not RSVP-ed.

Liz: Oh, right, sorry, my mail has been piling up and I keep forgetting to buy toilet paper.
Jack: What's that supposed to mean?

• Dating:

The Head: I see you're lookin' at my watch.
Liz: What?
The Head: It's cool, isn't it? That's a Japanese pie watch.
Liz: Oh, okay.
The Head: It tells time with those little pie pieces. Each piece is six minutes, so right now it's... six times four... 5:30? That can't be right.
Liz: My watch has these little hands that go around and point at numbers.
The Head: Hey, that's awesome possum.

The latest? I decided I really needed to get my hair cut today. That turned out to be a poor decision. Remember this episode?

Good thing I'm going on vacation for a week. And that hair grows. Unfortunately, not enough in one week.

Liz: "This is how I cry now!"

Sunny Saturdays in spring.

I spent a lovely Saturday morning this past weekend at Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta. I've been wanting to check this cemetery out for a while, and then I found out that there were free tours this weekend. (This picture is not my tour, it's from their website, but you get the idea.)

I mean, I like cemeteries. I've said that before. I have a soft spot in my heart for random historical sites and local curiosities. But even better? Tours of random historical sites and local curiosities. I love tour guides and their command of, in many cases, socially useless knowledge. I love that one really zealous tourmate, who's always there to ask the important questions. I leave happier than when I started. How can you not?

Better still? That I have friends who indulge my quirks.

"The best part about being a nerd within a community of nerds is the insularity – it’s cozy, familial, come as you are...

"Being a nerd, which is to say going too far and caring too much about a subject, is the best way to make friends I know. For me, the spark that turns an acquaintance into a friend has usually been kindled by some shared enthusiasm like detective novels or Ulysses S. Grant."

- Sarah Vowell, The Partly Cloudy Patriot