I'm over my jet lag. I'm pretty good at transitioning time zones -- even nine of them -- because I'm a savvy little sausage. But Mom. Geez! What a creature.
Mom says, "Jet lag makes me feel upside down."
"Like this?" I ask.
"Exactly," Mom says, "but not as beautiful as you."
A week later: Mom is reading all night -- when she isn't prowling -- and she is a sight to behold at NOON the next day. Poor thing. Can I bark, "Frumpy, Mummy!"?
Mom starts a new semester today -- teaching -- and she intensifies work on her writing project. Though it's all on the Internet and at the computer, suggesting she can swing in and out of it, she would definitely like to swing more into it. She's tried everything for jet lag over the years. What to do?
But as she says, "Our commute between continents happens all at once about two to four times per year, and we're very lucky to have our perspectives broadened. Jet lag, or no."
And I say, "If we wag, we can wag on."
Here is my no-ear look for my dear friend Danna. It's an accurate jet lag look, too. (Check out that stone Swiss hut behind me!)
