travel

As my two kids grew up and became independent, it dawned on me that I could now redirect all saved dollars and cents onto the support of my third child -- travel. A demanding kid, that one. Could suck the last penny from my wallet if I let it. But I was willing. Ever since I was young, I've been restless. Someone who needs to head out and discover new places. I haven't changed.

It's been quiet here, at the farmette this year. Summer came and went, Fall is ticking along and Ed hasn't even had the inclination to head to the north woods, let alone to the coastal states, or anywhere in between or beyond.

We struck a deal. Twice a year we'll take planes, we'll go far. Other times? Probably not. Or at least not with him in tow.


And so those two trips, with a more or less willing traveling companion have become very precious to me. Not surprisingly, therefore, you'll find us at odd hours, including today, before dawn, trying to once again come up with a winter trip that will please us both. In travel, Ed is drawn to adventure in much the same way as I am drawn to a mattress with clean sheets. But where?

In a significant turn of events today, the airfares finally plummeted, but to only one isolated destination in Europe. If we leave at the end of December (it has to be then: early December is set aside for me to visit my father in the 'old country'), we can fly roundtrip to a remote corner of that continent for $550. That's a steal. And so we do it! We purchase the tickets and now it's back to the same old conversation. Can you be a little more adventurous? Can we stay at places with clean sheets? Can I book ahead? Can we be flexible?


In other news -- well, it was a long day of work again and one that unfortunately began swimmingly and ended in a more wet and cold manner. In a burst of optimism, in the morning, I rode Rosie…



(that's the farmette -- in the woody clump behind the fields)


In the course of my time at work, things changed.





And by the time I make my way home, I know only that there isn't a chance in hell that I am going to escape this cloudburst. The rain pounds against my helmet and against my very wet everything else and I can only count the minutes until I am finally...


 


...finally...  home.