But this came at a price. On our last night in Reykjavik, we had a farewell dinner, where the more reckless among us supped on Icelandic delicacies such as putrefied shark washed down with cognac. At the airport, Susan began to entice me with tales of upcoming trips to Italy, Timbuktu, Yellowstone and the Amazon. I would have been completely entranced except for the fact that the Icelandic baggage handler managed to get the lock on Susan's bag caught in the zipper of his fly. In the end, we were forced to fly first-class.
Adventure is a many-splendored thing.
But all of them seemed quite content with what they had done. But I had also discovered that I could escape these fears, knowing that my kids are quite self-sufficient, reasonably responsible teenagers with a father who is only occasionally neglectful. I could get used to this. All rights reserved.