Chuck Norris probably doesn't sleep either

So it's 5:33am on Wednesday morning and I'm wide awake.  Jetlag is probably the only thing worse than economy class, wouldn't you agree?  Well maybe not, but at this point in my post-holiday slump, it sure feels that way.

Having left Adelaide on Monday morning at 6am, I got home to New York at 6pm.  It was still Monday.  That international date line thing always spins me out.  The flight back was not great, in that I didn't get a lot of sleep.  I know I was restless; anxious as I was about the inevitable catch-up I'd have to do at the office - on work, I mean.  I was actually eager to catch-up with my colleagues again, but my mind was definitely still on holidays and not at all wired to be back at work yet.  The flight itself was without incident though, which was good.  The onboard service on the SYD-LAX leg wasn't so great, but I was too tired to make an issue of it.  Just bring me my pretzels and Diet Coke without a side order of your attitude BS thanks, Mr Flight Attendant.  It's not my fault you hate your job.

When I got home to New York, I didn't really want to unpack.  Yes it's weird but every time I come back from Oz, I always have the same fight with myself. I  always delay unpacking because I think "the last time I put these clothes in my case, I was at Mum and Dad's house".  If I take them out, it's like breaking a spell or something, and the holiday will really be over.  I really need to toughen up.  But I did unpack (relatively) straight away and set aside the souvenirs for my peeps back at work, ready to take them into the office first thing Tuesday morning.

Amidst all of the usual homesickness and fatigue and whatnot that comes with a great holiday, one of the best things about getting back to work is the chance to respond to the "how was your break?" questions from colleagues.  This time around, I got to share some of the highlights of my time back home.  In addition to the special times with family, friends, and crazy puppy dogs, many of the stand-out memories of my holiday at home revolve and food (you can't be surprised).  But they include:

• the sausage sizzle.  In a hardware store carpark or at home, they are fabulous.  And at our family BBQ, the sunshine was a welcome (and surprise) guest.
• the chicken schnitzels.  Whether at Grandma's house, The Archer or The Stag, they were tasty and comforting and just the ticket to soak up whatever dastardly wine I was imbibing at the time.
• dim sims and chips from the local chip shop.  You know I'm right (especially about the dim sims).
• the burger & beer combo at The Lion.  Always good, but never more so than when enjoyed with a good friend to reminisce about New York and celebrate home-town successes.
• the laksa.  As usual the one at Danny's Thai didn't disappoint, but the one at the dingy food court in the Adelaide Central Market was a winner too.
• the pheasant pate.  Maggie Beer, you are a thumping legend.  Please export your wares (at reasonable prices!).
• the peppermint chocolate frogs from Haigh's.  Milk or dark, it hardly makes a difference.
• the Crownies.  Proof positive that I should remember how strong Aussie beers are, and yet I never seem to do so.
• the beautiful Father's Day brunch with family at Semaphore beach.  A beautiful cafe, a sunny walk, and the chance to breathe in the salty, ocean air.

Needless to say the indulgent holiday was a winner for my palate, but perhaps not my waistline.  I'll be the first to admit that my clothes are a little more snug than they used to be.  That said, I wouldn't take back anything I experienced on this trip home.  Even the hangovers were totally worth it.

I haven't confirmed my next visit home yet, but I hope it won't be too long.  I just need to fit in a couple of hours on the treadmill before I put my body through it again.  Or at least buy some more stretchy pants....