A few weeks ago, my husband and I sat on our couch discussing the pending details of our upcoming honeymoon. When we got married, we had agreed to take our honeymoon when I got moved in. After, you know, the chaos of the summer and fall had passed and we were settled in for the long winter. We would go somewhere warm, escape the subzero temperatures and run for the crystal-clear oceans and sandy beaches.
Between starting new jobs and all the holidays, we had sort of forgotten about our upcoming honeymoon and sat piecing together all the details. Mom and dad were coming for Christmas, we would leave for our road trip the day dad flew home. Mom would stay and watch the pets. It was a flawless plan. As most are. As much as I like to consider myself to be a ‘fly by the seat of my pants, spontaneous type’ I do love me a good plan. Seeing how my husband is very much a “enjoy the journey” kind of guy, I had planned much of the trip myself, asking his opinion on certain destinations before finalizing the details.
All was set to be a good time. Christmas came and went.



