cruising – The Wandering Turtle

When Something Wonderful Still Feels Heavy

We leave for Europe soon. A trip I have dreamed about, planned for, saved for, talked about, researched, and looked forward to for what feels like forever. There are incredible things waiting for us on the other side of that flight. Places I have never seen. Food I cannot wait to try. Streets I want to wander. Memories Tim and I have been planning to make together. I know how fortunate I am to be going, and I know this is supposed to be exciting. And yet, right now, excitement is having a hard time finding room to breathe.

I feel raw and numb in the aftermath of saying goodbye to Joy. Somehow those two things can exist together. I can feel like every nerve ending is exposed and, at the same time, like part of me has gone completely quiet. The house feels different without her. Our routines are different without her. Even preparing to leave feels different because there is one little soul missing from the equation. I think grief does that. It quietly changes the shape of everything, even things that seemingly have nothing to do with the loss.

Then there are Lilah and Reba. I watch them and wonder what they understand. I wonder if they are grieving Joy too, or simply confused by another change in their world. And now the suitcases are out, which means they know something else is happening. They know those suitcases mean we leave. Maybe I am projecting some of my own anxiety onto them, but every time I look at them, I worry. Are they okay? Will they be okay while we are gone? Do they feel unsettled? Do they know we are coming back? I wish there were some way to explain all of it to them.

And apparently my brain has decided that worrying about our dogs isn’t enough. There are so many things happening in life around us right now that I cannot control. Situations involving people I love. Decisions that aren’t mine to make. Things that could change while we are thousands of miles away. I keep thinking about how removed I will be if something happens, as though being physically closer somehow gives me control I don’t actually have anyway.

That may be the hardest part for me to admit. I like knowing what is happening. I like being available. I like believing that if something goes sideways, I can step in, make a phone call, solve a problem, help somebody, or at least be present. Europe puts an ocean between me and all of that. Maybe that is part of what my anxiety is really fighting—the reminder that being nearby has never actually made me the one in control.

My body seems determined to remind me of everything my brain is carrying. I am not sleeping. My heart races when I think about leaving. I have a constant nagging feeling that I have forgotten something important. I mentally run through lists: passports, clothes, reservations, medications, dogs, work, family, flights, transfers, excursions, chargers, money—and somehow I still come away convinced there is something I haven’t thought of. It is anxiety’s favorite trick: convincing you there is one more disaster hiding just outside your field of vision if you would only worry hard enough to find it.

So I am trying to talk myself back from the ledge a little at a time. I am reminding myself that this is a dream trip. I am reminding myself how much Tim and I have planned and how excited we have been. I am reminding myself that there are beautiful moments ahead of us that I don’t want to miss because I spent them mentally standing back home in Texas. I want to look up. I want to see Europe instead of staring at my phone waiting for something to go wrong. I want to eat the food, wander the streets, take the pictures, laugh with my husband, stand somewhere impossibly beautiful and realize, We are actually here.

Maybe I don’t have to feel completely okay before I go. Maybe I can board the plane grieving Joy, miss Lilah and Reba before we’ve even left them, worry about the people I love, and still allow myself to experience something wonderful. Maybe gratitude and grief are not opposites. Maybe excitement and anxiety can sit beside each other for a while. Maybe I don’t have to solve every problem, anticipate every possibility, or make sure the entire world is perfectly settled before I allow myself to leave it for sixteen days.

Because the truth is, life will keep happening whether I am standing here trying to supervise it or walking through Rome with Tim. And perhaps part of this trip is going to be learning to let it.

Right now, I am still spiraling a little. I am still waking up with that uneasy feeling that there is something I should be doing. I am still looking at Joy’s absence, Lilah and Reba’s faces, the suitcases on the floor, and the seemingly endless list in my head and wondering how I am supposed to simply walk out the door. But I will. I will double-check the passports. I will probably check them again. I will hug the dogs far too many times. I will worry. I will cry. I will get on the plane anyway.

And somewhere on the other side of all this heaviness, there is a trip Tim and I have dreamed about waiting for us. I don’t want anxiety to convince me that I have to choose between caring deeply about everything I am leaving behind and being fully present for everything waiting ahead. I think there is room in my heart for both.

Blessings Y’all – Amy

Confessions of A Seasoned Cruiser

After 30+ cruises, I can tell you there’s a big difference between your first time stepping on a ship and your thirtieth. The first time, you’re wide-eyed at everything—the glittering atrium, the sheer size of the ship, the endless food options. By the time you’ve cruised dozens of times, you still appreciate the beauty, but you also know where the best coffee is without consulting the deck plan, which elevator banks actually move faster, and which quiet corner is perfect for reading when the pool deck is packed.

Boarding Day: No Panic Necessary

New cruisers often bolt onto the ship the second boarding opens, racing to squeeze in every minute. Seasoned cruisers know better. I’ve learned the art of the late arrival—letting the initial rush die down before strolling aboard without stress. The ship won’t sail without me, and sometimes the best move is to head straight for that tucked-away lounge instead of fighting the buffet line with half the passenger list.

Packing Like a Pro

On my first cruise, I packed half my closet. By cruise thirty, I’ve mastered the art of less. Packing for the Caribbean means keeping it light—swimsuits, sundresses, sandals, and easy layers that don’t take up much space. For a leaf-peeping cruise, it’s an entirely different approach. The mornings are crisp, the afternoons warm, and the evenings chilly enough for a sweater and scarf. My suitcase shifts from flip-flops to sturdy shoes, from cover-ups to cozy layers. The key is versatility and always having a carry-on ready with what I’ll need that first day, whether it’s a swimsuit for tropical waters or a fleece pullover for watching fall leaves roll by from the deck.

Skipping the Crowds

After so many cruises, I know when to join the excitement and when to duck away. First-timers chase every trivia contest and poolside game. I’ve learned the joy of finding the hidden decks no one bothers with, slipping into the spa pool when most passengers are in port, and savoring specialty dining instead of fighting buffet lines. It’s not about doing it all—it’s about knowing what fills your cup.

Loving the Rituals

Even after thirty sailings, there are traditions I never miss. The sailaway moment—drink in hand, wind whipping my hair—as the ship pulls away from port. The late-night stroll under starlight when the decks are quiet. That first coffee of the day with nothing but ocean stretched ahead. These rituals are the heartbeat of cruising, and they’ve never lost their magic.

Why I Keep Coming Back

Being a seasoned cruiser doesn’t mean the excitement has faded. If anything, it’s richer now. I no longer stress over what to pack or whether I’ll “miss something.” I know what I love, what I can skip, and how to pace myself. Every ship has its own personality, every itinerary its own surprises, and every voyage still feels like an escape.

After 30+ cruises, I’ve learned this: the sea always gives you something new, whether it’s a sunrise you’ve never seen, a flavor you’ve never tasted, or a memory you’ll carry home. That’s why I keep boarding—because cruising, at its best, is never about the count. It’s about the journey.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Celebrating Love & Friendship

Someone said once that time heals all wounds. I’d be willing to bet that person hadn’t REALLY had loss in their life. Don’t get me wrong. Life is moving on. In so many fabulous ways. But as I stare down the barrel of several memory anniversaries this week I’m a little melancholy.

Turns out…time never heals grief. It eases the sharpness as you struggle to breathe. It dulls the edges in a way that makes living come back in ways you can’t imagine possible in the immediate aftermath. But time does not ever heal grief. Because grief can’t be healed. Each year the calendar rolls dates around that tug the fine hairs under the band-aid you’ve put on the pain. You find ways to brace for it. To get through it. To ask for help. But on those days the pain is very much there.

TimeHop has begun reminding me of the season of life that the kids and I were in this time six years ago. This week on Friday would have been my sixteenth wedding anniversary. As I mull that over…how many years Fred has been gone versus here a knot forms in my stomach. February 4th would have been my grandpa’s birthday.

I can honestly look back and know that these impending dates don’t send me spiraling into the hole they once did. I can proudly say that is because I’ve done the work. I’ve invested the energy in myself to know that I am a survivor. But that doesn’t mean I’m not tremendously glad that when the idea came up to run away this week that I wasn’t completely and totally on board. Spend a week away with a man who loves me and makes room for the days that I’m not quite ok? Yep. Spend a week doing one of the things I love most with friends who are like family to me? Yep. Sign me up.

Add surprising all those friends to the list (my favorite thing to do to people I love) and I’m all in.

We boarded the Carnival Celebration today. To celebrate being loved. Not once not twice but by three amazing men. My PawPaw who contradicted all the crappy awful abusive men my mother chose. Fred who took a broken girl, gave her an instant family, and was patient while she loved too hard and held on a little too tight. And this wonderful man who walks beside me now. Who quietly and patiently lets me know every day that I am worth being loved. That bruised and slightly damaged as I may be I deserve to be loved as hard as I love.

We are celebrating friendship. These that I have made in all the years I’ve traveled. The special relationships I have that I constantly confuse the mess out of Tim because he can’t remember all the names but he loves them all because they make me happy.

Love hard friends. Life is short and precious and can change on a dime.

Blessings – Amy

A Whale Named Barnacles

My timing is always crazy but as I sit in my steamy beach town my thoughts are on the whale I met in September in Alaska. Hahaha. Maybe because this 2000+ lb whale made enough of an impression on me that we named Tim’s car after her. Let me tell you about our whale excursion and a whale named Barnacles.

The tour we took in Juneau in September was a whale watching tour and my greatest wish was to see an orca. When we boarded the bus our guide said that while it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility he had only seen orcas six times since April (and it was September). But the whale gods were with me. We weren’t on board the boat 15 minutes and the captain got a call that an Orca named Captain Hook had been spotted. Named such because his dorsal fin had gotten caught in something at one point and was curved over in an unnatural way. He was a scout orca for a transient pod – scouting food for his pod while they were safely some distance away. There aren’t enough words to describe the feelings that went through me when my eyes landed on that whale. There were tears and there was a video sent to my baby girl. Like most ocean things whales are OUR thing.

Back to Barnacles. After Captain Hook moved on they took us into a cove a few minutes away and there were numerous humpback whales breaching the surface. Even with many whale watching boats in the area the silence and the majestic-ness (yes that’s a word lol) of being still and listening to these huge creatures blow out of their blowholes was amazing. The air was still, the scenery behind them just stunning, the eagles soaring above them, and these huge creatures closer than you can even imagine was a once in a lifetime experience. The guide had told us to take as many pictures as possible. We were on a scientific type tour where they tried hard to match the whale tails to their records to see which of the whales they had identified were in the area so they can track their patterns, babies, etc.

Never did I ever anticipate that I would get a good enough picture of a whale’s fluke to be able to match one in the book. Mind you, I was using my iPhone. But after an hour of watching these amazing creatures breach and swim around us we headed back to shore. While we did they passed around a book for us to compare our pictures with the known whales in the area. I was stunned to realize I had a picture of a mama whale named Barnacles. (For that matter so was the guide!). She is a 57’ whale, one of the largest in the world, identified in 2007. They didn’t say if she was identified as a baby whale or not but geez that makes her at minimum 15 years old.

I went into the Alaska trip skeptical I would like the cold. Knowing the whale excursion would likely be my favorite. I was wrong on one and right on the other. I can’t wait to go back to Alaska. Made a promise to the baby girl that we wouldn’t go back without her. One I am already chomping at the bit to fulfill.

If you have nothing else on your bucket list – put Alaska on it. It’s worth it.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Grand Turk

I have three favorite ports of call. Three that are my favorite for a variety of reasons…in no particular order….Grand Cayman, Grand Turk, and Cozumel. Last week I was returned to the beauty and peacefulness that is Grand Turk. The minute the ship pulls into Grand Turk it is blue water as far as the eye can see. Blue water that is an indescribable color I have tried to replicate in my home, my office, and in just about every aspect of my life because it brings me such joy and peacefulness.

Astrologically I am a Cancer (Tim is too but that’s another post!). As a water sign as soon as I get around water my souls stills and my body relaxes. Every knot in my body unfurls and I can breathe again. I truly think the reason cruising appeals to me so much is that I can breathe out on the open water. Nothing, absolutely nothing, phases me when I am near the ocean.

Grand Turk, the cruise port, is pretty commercial. It’s designed to part you with your money. If that’s your thing, they get you taken care of. Blessedly, unlike other ports, you can get your beach/water fix as well within a few minutes walk of the ship. Some ports require you to be taken by bus to the beach and that’s never really fun. I’ve done excursions in Grand Turk but sometime a couple of years ago I found that just getting off the ship, wandering around, and then sitting in Margaritaville watching all the people was much more relaxing. I make sure that I get back on the boat before the masses and it makes for a very relaxing day.

Carnival Cruises built the port center on Grand Turk in 2006 which is why it feels so commercial. Unlike other Caribbean cruise stops, Grand Turk is a very small island, and offers a different atmosphere than other destinations. It’s just a laid-back little town with amazing beaches and a little British Bermudian Colonial heritage.

When you stand in the water you can see straight down to the bottom (about the only kind of water I will stand in!) and it’s beautiful. The sand doesn’t hurt your feet like other beaches. The surf is beautiful and relaxing.

Anyway, if you get the chance get to Grand Turk. It’ll surely become one of your favs too. I’ll be back to it in July and I can’t wait!

Blessings y’all – Amy

Cruising Through Life?

Carnival Horizon peeking through the palms in La Romana

When I go too long between cruises I forget. I forget the energy that thrums through your body when you wake up on embarkation day and realize that FINALLY it’s time to get onboard. I forget how my heart races when my foot crosses the threshold of the ship and every muscle in my body screams “YES”. I also forget the way life just fades away and time slows down for a few days.

But the people? People are different onboard.

The crew you meet…there aren’t words for these amazing human beings. They make you feel like you are the most special person in their world for a week. They have some superhuman capacity for remembering they have met you before. With the thousands of faces they see I have no idea how on that one. But some of the kindest, sweetest, most compassionate gentle souls I have ever met dedicate their lives to these ships and making vacations unforgettable. It makes me physically ill when I see the few that can’t seem to leave their bad attitudes at home and abuse them like they are servants. More on that another time.

Amber Cove – a look at just how big Carnival Horizon is!

I think the most fascinating is how the guests are. 98% are more easy going and open to meeting new people than they ever would be at home. If the human race could tap into the energy and attitude you find aboard a cruise ship? Hell, we’d have no wars or division anywhere. There is something truly magical about meeting someone you wouldn’t have met otherwise (mainly because they live 1000 miles away from you) and feeling your heart click like they are your best friend. I can’t tell you how many of these friendships I have made that remain near and dear to my heart.

Prior to this week it has been 18 months since I was on a ship. The longest I’ve gone since 2012. Now that I have proven to myself I can do it alone, and love it, I can assure you that will be the longest gap I will have for as long as God provides me the ability to keep cruising through life. ❤️

Blessings y’all – Amy

Let’s Get Sailing!

It’s time. It’s happening. The crew is in stateside and in quarantine. The CDC has finally backed off the industry. The ships are in place. CRUISING IS BACK.

If I didn’t already have a summer vacation in place as an alternate because I had no idea what the cruise industry was going to be allowed to do I would be on that first ship sailing on July 3rd. I would be kneeling at the end of the gangplank worshiping my favorite form of travel. There would probably be tears.

Some of you think I am kidding. Those of you who really know me? Know that I am absolutely 100% not kidding. Ships being shuddered to a stop this last 18 months has impacted my health. My mental health.

You see some people travel just for fun. I travel to keep my sanity. I operate daily on a breakneck all out pace. My mind never stops and never gets a break. When I step on a ship I stop. Just full on stop. I sit on a bar stool (geez that sounds bad) at my favorite bar either with old friends (my last cruise was literally booked to be with two of my favorite bartenders before they went on vacation) or with people who will be friends by the end of a week. It is so polar opposite in behavior it’s sinful in it’s blissfulness. Factor in on top of that having someone else cook and clean for me for a week. And my astrologically signed Cancer heart being surrounded by water for a week? PARADISE.

So to say I’m excited about those beautiful ships setting sail? Just a little. I have massaged what is left of my vacation time nine ways to Sunday to see if I can fit in a cruise between now and my Thanksgiving cruise. (Did I mention I scheduled one of those as soon as the industry was green lighted?) Unfortunately I can’t make an extra week work but I am counting the days until Thanksgiving. Meanwhile I’ve checked in with the friends who became family (Carnival crew members) to see who is landing on which ships so I know who’s neck I get to hug first.

Let’s sail away people!