Timing. . .

. . . is everything. . .

Let me start you out by saying I'm writing this with a heavy heart and a befuddled mind.

Now how can you resist reading the rest of this surely-to-be-longish rant? I'll even promise to use as little profanity as I can to get through all this. . .

Here's my travel timeline back to Ireland:

Monday, 5am: Wake up, feed dogs who are too excited to eat. Eat good frozen waffles from Whole Foods, pack up truck, dogs, luggage.

Monday, 6AM: Leave in-laws' house with dogs for airport to avoid traffic.

Monday, 7:15AM: Arrive airport faster than normal. Hang out at Jack in the Box. FIL gives JIB coffee a good rating for future reference.

Monday, 8AM: Take dogs on looooooong walk to waste time and wear them out.

Monday, 8:35AM: Bring dogs to Continental QuickPack counter to get them ready to fly.

8:36AM: Declare to FIL that I'm going to throw up because the whole process combined with coffee makes me so nervous. I do not throw up and FIL is targeted by a freaky guy who breeds and is shipping some type of terrier. Smelling her makes Blanco a very, very happy boy.

9:15AM: Dogs are happy and in crates. Huge fees for flying paid. Paperwork in order. Leave to go check in for my flight.

11AM: Through security (PEOPLE: have you never heard about the liquid restrictions on the planes--DUH!!! get a CLUE!)

11:30AM: Plane is delayed due to some problem in Newark. I panic because I'm on a tight timeline with dogs. Continental says it's no problem.

12PM: Have one of those standing at the window looking at the plane moments when I can see the dogs' crates and I start crying like. . .a crazy hormonal pregnant woman at the airport. Yell through the glass to "Be careful a******, those are my DOGS!" Bang on glass with first to make sure they heard me. Thankfully, no one calls security.

12:30PM: on the plane to Newark

Then on the flight to Dublin. Dogs are eventually loaded. No problems. You'll get to read my letter to Continental in a few days praising them for their excellent flight staff on that Dublin flight and their dog handling skills (say that in a Napoleon Dynamite voice, will ya'?)

Tuesday, 7:10AM (Ireland time): Arrive Ireland. Call John. Breeze through immigration and collect baggage. Check with the Department of Agriculture about picking up the dogs.

Tuesday, 7:20AM: Sit with John in a little airport cafe and have freshly-squeezed orange juice while elevating my legs to make.the.swelling.stop!!! Cargo does not open for an hour or so, so we have some time to kill.

Tuesday, 8AM: We leave the airport. John takes a call on the mobile (yes, I know it's illegal to drive and talk) from his friend Ib on the football team who says he's got an e-mail first thing this morning stating that the client for John's project is shutting down for the next two years. We've heard some rumblings about complaints about the cost of the project but have been reassured that THERE.IS.NOTHING.TO.WORRY.ABOUT. I assume it is a rumor and we go gleely about our way.

8:10AM: Arrive Lissenhall Kennel, quarantine for all of Ireland. It is such a quaint, nice little place! Also not far at all from the airport.

8:15AM: John gets a call back from his boss. We learn that we are going home.

Not "home" in some spiritual, ethereal, intangible sense of the word. No, we are going home back to Pearland. And soon. As soon as possible.

I still think they are all having a joke over on me and they'll give me the punchline soon. Like it's a day-late April fools' joke. And this is a big one.

Did I mention that I had just brought my dogs into Ireland that morning?

9AM: We get a knock on the car window: dogs are ready to go! We get them out of their crates--very disoriented--and walk them for a while. Takes about 10 minutes until they realize they need to pee. Then they realize that DAD is there. Yippee!! Doggies love their daddy!!

9:30AM: On the road from Dublin to Cork. Pretty good drive--one I've not made yet.

Sometime in the next four hours, I calmly accept that we are going home. Fortunately, life experiences (or maybe the the jet lag) make me am very calm and rational about it all. Not angry, just disappointed. A little scared about the financial stuff since it will be a big change when we get home. But even that is not a big deal. The only thing that bothers me is that I have to get the dogs back on a plane and I'm starting from scratch again. And it ain't cheap. But I'll climb that mountain when I get there. It's just nice to be. . .home?

I promise to take back all my complaints about everything I complained about in the last 5 months: the washing machine, the lack of dishwasher, the differences in shopping, the parking, the driving. All of it.

I'm just not ready to leave. The weather is just now absolutely perfect. It's like getting a gold medal every day for having put up with the rubbish winter weather.

I'm not ready to head back to Texas. We have hardly begun our adventures out here. We made this place our home. And who is going to keep reading my blog when we're just two Texans in. . .Texas?

The most gutwrenching thing is that this doesn't just effect us--our friends who are staying in our house get the brunt of this, too. We went from planning to be out here until 2009 to returning in four weeks in a matter of hours. Unbelievable.

Oh, and do you all remember that I'm pregnant? The ticker at the top of the page reminds me that this kiddo is coming out pretty darn soon and I'd better get my butt in gear to find medical care back home now.

I guess this is what that joke about "Wanna make God laugh? Tell Him your plans" is all about.

And I know I am complaining when I should truly be counting my blessings. We have our health, our baby, our dogs, and a job. Lots of people getting laid off now that Huge American BioPharmaceutical Company is pulling out of Cork.

And, um, how great is it that (a) our baby will be born in Texas and be a true Texan (I guess if you're not from TX this may not mean much, but it is a good alternative to being born Irish, which is just really cool) and (b) all of our friends and family will be within 30 minutes of us once we have the kiddo. Tons of love and support at our fingertips with a new baby? Who can complain about that?

And I'm not. Part of me is absolutely thrilled to be going home. And it has nothing to do with Tex-Mex food. I promise.

We know this is part of God's plan for us, and we trust in that. It's a little shocking, but change is good.

So that's about all for this. We are moving back probably the first week of May depending on how quick the travel people can arrange everything (for us, not the dogs--I get to do that. Yippee.).

I am kind of reeling about all of this, but right now I'm just kind of going through the motions and making lists and trying to think of the million things I need to think of to get us pulled out of here without some Irish debt collector tracking us down across the pond in six months.

What a long, strange trip it's been.

Surely, I will post more about my actual trip soon. But right now I think I'm going to go back to bed for a few hours. I am completely exhausted.