Confessions of A Windows Shopper
by Tolly Patterson Salz

Dear Jetsetter,

Thank you for the most recent influx of emails sent my way in an attempt to lure me to exotic locales such as Punta Cana, Ojai, A'jia, and Zannos Melathron. Does it really even matter that not only can I not pronounce these names but also that I have no clue where they are located?

Traveling to the Taheima Wellness Resort & Spa (deals end in 5 days, 6 hours!) or the Escape to Shape in Puglia (deal also ends in 5 days, 6 hours)—simply yummy. I'm packing my bags in between finger strokes. While I'm not quite certain the location of these snazzy spots either, I'm pretty sure they're either north of LBJ or south of downtown Dallas, which is fine for me as long as I'm not paying for the gas. God knows this body needs some resorting and shaping, and perhaps those mountains and that water are just the inspiration I need to slip out of these sweats. Just to clarify: no kids are allowed in the spa, correct?

Bike the California Wine Country? Heck yeah! Alaskan Fly Fishing Adventure? I'm tying my flies already. Whitewater Rafting in Idaho? Sing me a river, sister, and I'll bring the raft.

Oh, Jetsetter, you should know that your app comes in handy for the times I find myself stuck in a carpool line or waiting for a baseball game to start; or, in between grading essays I'm not sure anyone but me really cares about. With you, I travel the world—all without having to leave the drive-through window.

Who cares that I cannot afford these trips? Or the meals, clothes, and extras that are sure to accompany them? All I have to do is pull up Nordstrom's website, put some sweet shoes and a sassy little dress in my shopping cart, just waiting for my purchase. In fact, my shopping cart is almost full for that Taheima trip. Not before, but certainly during and after, I will look fabulous—and will, no doubt, return home, refreshed beyond belief. Who cares that this trip is one I will take only in my imagination?

You see, I'm addicted to online shopping. With Windows, I am able to travel the world and purchase anything I'd ever desire, as well as the things I don't desire.

I'm a dreamer, no doubt, and I find escape not only in great (and cheap) books, but also in the fantasy world that I am able to create for myself, thanks to the internet. Some people use online sites to become younger, thinner, richer, more successful—because you can instantly become all of these things, all with the stroke of some keys. And some people use the internet to connect with others. Yet in all honesty, I use the internet to become alone. I use the internet to play out various shopping and traveling fantasies. And I use the internet to remind me that the greatest things in life are not for sale, are not around the world, but really are right here in my backyard.

Yes, I am a dreamer, but I'm one who will take reality over fantasy any day of the week. The truth is that I really would rather be out at the ole ballgame, dressed to the ninth in a tank top and flip flops—rather than Punta Canaing it somewhere in heels and a fancy frock. I like not having to pay a monthly credit card—especially since I really don't have anything to show for it.

The truth is that I'd rather purchase my son a new leather baseball glove than a fancy-pants new leather purse for myself. That I'd rather be sitting on the third baseline of a ball game, my youngest son in my lap, watching my husband coach as my oldest son pitches to my middle son, who is catching this inning.

All this is not to say that I wouldn't mind a little getaway or trip to the spa—I really would welcome these escapes—but not if it means missing the breeze in my hair, the feel of a tiny body in my lap, the sound of a ball hitting the leather of a worn-out mitt. These are the moments that no app can bring to your handheld device, that no credit card can purchase no matter how large your limit.

So, Jetsetter, thank you for the kind offers—and keep 'em coming my way. While you may never find me scaling the Great Wall of China or socializing at a sidewalk café in Paris, I guarantee that you will find me sitting in my sweats, smiling, safe at home.