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Meg Sanders and her family pose for a photo looking down at Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany.

Courtesy Meg Sanders

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Meg Sanders poses for a photo holding a Bavarian pretzel and a mug of beer in Germany.

Courtesy Meg Sanders

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Maybe it was the domestic goddess in me that took over or the fact Scout Camp is in less than a week and the safety pins I’ve been using to hold on my boys’ badges may not hold but I decided it was time to thread the needle and sew.

This was a costly mistake.

It was two days later, as I pet my cat, I realized seven inches of olive-green thread was hanging from her bottom (I hope she never reads this; she’ll be so embarrassed). At some point during my sewing foray, she’d snacked on some thread. As I yelped– 50 percent shock, 50 percent disgust, it was here I learned via my daughter’s friend: do not pull out the string!

As it was eight at night, my only option was to shlep to the MedVet ER in Sunset. So many are familiar with this place, the only option in times of desperation.

Three hours, a set of x-rays and $584 later, she still had the extra tail but at least I knew it wouldn’t kill her. I just needed to check the litterbox the next day.

My family is currently in a “saving” phase. We took a once-in-a-lifetime trip, and as the plane touched back down, we knew full well we were coming home to drained accounts and months of beans and rice for dinner.

So, as per Murphy’s law, your cat has to eat string.

I come from a family of travelers. My ancestors immigrated from England to traverse the country with a handcart. My grandparents went from Asia in the golden age of flight and my parent’s most recent adventures included Iceland and their fourth stop in France. My siblings’ combined travels are the four ubiquitous corners of the earth. My best friend/cousin is a flight attendant so you can imagine.

After years of jealousy, pining, fear, saving and vicarious living, I got my taste of leaving the United States and it was everything I hoped it would be. I did go to Canada and Mexico once but they don’t really count as I could practically throw a rock and hit the border.

We packed our bags, flew 11 hours and landed in “The Land of the People” — Deutschland. The price was right as we booked with local business Experience Germany Tours, run by Herr Stuart, a German teacher in Weber School District. He planned a perfect trip that took us along the Berlin Wall, over the cobbled streets of Dresden, biking through the hills of Salzburg and celebrating through Munich. I want to go back already, even with that dreaded flight.

As the U.S. gears up to celebrate 250 years, people tour the castles of Germany that are 900 years old. The history of the world becomes more vivid. Nowhere was it more real than our visit to Dachau, the first and longest operating death camp built by Nazi Germany.

The slow progression of fascism is perfectly depicted, with a timeline of government policies and changes that ultimately led to the deaths of six million Jews, along with Jehovah’s Witnesses, political dissidents, gay people, people with disabilities and others targeted by the Nazi regime.

It was at Dachau that I learned about the Nuremberg Laws, which codified racial discrimination and were followed by the revocation of citizenship for Jewish Germans. The parallels of today were not missed, even by my teenage children. It was a powerful place to walk as I pictured mothers ripped from their children by their own government.

Even the modern history of Germany was captivating. The remnants of the Berlin Wall no longer separate East and West Germany, instead standing as a reminder of how quickly political decisions can shape generations. Throughout the country, history is not edited away or found only in museums. The streets, buildings, landscape and people are its history.

Germany isn’t defined only by its tragedies. There is the rich culture, kind locals, German engineering on display at the Deutsches Museum — which my engineer husband maintains is the best museum he’s ever visited, as evidenced by the seven hours we spent there — and, of course, the schnitzel. I like mine Jägerschnitzel, drench in mushroom sauce. If you want a taste of Germany, plan to attend Ogden’s Hoff Fest, usually held in January.

More than the sights, tastes and beer of Germany was the time with my family. At home I compete with friends, phones, school and jobs, the hustle of travel kept us close. Sometimes too close.

We navigated train stations, butchered the German language, ate our weight in Bavarian pretzels, sipped the absolute best coffee, experiencing something entirely new together. And while I maintain my children, like the witches of Macbeth, convened each morning to draw straws over which would be the day’s beast, those hours together are memories I will treasure long after the jet lag fades.

We came home to an empty coffer, a sick cat and a state with no Lindt chocolate stores but the joy of travel, of getting out of my safe, familiar space only made the drive to see more that much stronger. I’ll eat beans and rice if it gets me back out there. Being out in the world only made me want to hear other’s stories of travel and appreciate what it takes to get there, especially when using a handcart.

Where should we go next?