Opinion: A true love story


My husband Doo and I are just back from two weeks of international travel. By ourselves! That’s 14 days of uninterrupted quality time together, including many hours in close proximity while suffering airport delays, mega-city traffic and one questionable outrigger ride. And yet, I still kinda’ dig him! Not so much this morning, as we are both battling jet lag and he is masticating his granola less than 5 feet from me, but it’s nice to know that when we are removed from the day-to-day stresses of life, we love each other. We really do!

Doo and I have always served as strong trip partners. We pack light, move quickly and by and large have the same agenda. Does he occasionally break rank, order a third mai tai, and then bail on a scheduled tour? Yes. And does my highly regimented bedtime routine, which can’t possibly be replicated in a hotel with a gecko living in the ceiling, sometimes mean I am annoyingly grumpy at the museum? Absolutely. But we’ve been married long enough to embrace each other’s “quirks” and recognize that every new experience, good or bad, is about making memories.

Like, how I lost Doo’s Mastercard before we’d even left the U.S. And how Doo threw a tantrum at a check-in kiosk after learning that we first needed a COVID-19 passport, and second, went to the wrong application website and were scammed $150. Not our finest hours, but we were able to put things in perspective and move on.

So, though the affection is fading with each cereal bite (seriously, too loud!), we still love each other. We really do!

Peace out.