At midnight last night I finally said -- enough! No more talk of airfares! No more speculating what wins the "boring trip of the year" award. No more talk of tents, no more talk of adventure, I am ready to shut down this entire discussion, because it has gone on too long!
Of course, for Ed, weighing the ins and outs of just about anything -- from installing a porch roof to unplugging the septic system has to run its course. Nothing happens at a snap, nothing gets decided until it absolutely feels right.
And nothing yet feels right about our next escape together. Me, I feel we've already traveled there and back -- multiple times and to multiple destinations. I'm thinking we've talked this through so often that I'm ready to go elsewhere altogether -- and preferably a place that has only one airline, one airfare, one place to stay, one adventure to be had and then we turn around and come back home.
We are different that way. Who knew that I would get so stuck on a pattern of travel and that I would hate so much to deviate from it.? (I'll tell you who knew: the person who has been assiduously following Ocean, reading my daily accounts, where my breakfast of oatmeal and honey and kefir and fruits (from the yellow/red and blue families) along with a coffee has been the same, day in and day out, forever. Ed at least changes cereals!)
And, too, my less nomadic pal here at the farmhouse, has his habits and we are getting old and the habits and styles of living are getting to be as stiff as the bones and muscles after a day out with the shovel.
So, it is fair to say that we've decided nothing at all, or that our own ideas have not yet reached that sweet meeting point where we are both on board and happy to plunge. Not yet on board and not plunging anywhere -- not with cross country skiis through lovely villages far far away, not to a jungle hut in Central America, and not to Cyprus where Ed tells me we can rent both kayaks and bikes and skis, all from the same outfit!
In one day? -- I ask, somewhat dubiously.
Yep! I'll send you the link.
And crossing to Greek Cyprus -- that border poses no problems?
People do it all the time!
Legally?
The discussion ends there.
In the meantime, it rains that drizzly dark clouded rain and all I can say is that I am grateful for the red sheep shed because stuck as I am at my computer at the kitchen table, I see no other color before me. Oh, sure, the twinkling prch lights. But they're programmed to go on and off and when they're off, it's like someone clicked "black&white" on Photoshop and the entire image drained of color and only the sheep shed was spared.
In the evening, the younger ones come over for a dinner of tandoori chicken.
They look serious in this photo, but they are only playfully so.
Ed and I -- we appear light and airy tonight, but we are only marginally so. Trips are serious business for me. And I'm thinking (therefore?) that they are serious business for him as well.
You wont go white water-kayaking, you wont backpack through the rainforest...
It's true. I wont.
Sigh...
Of course, for Ed, weighing the ins and outs of just about anything -- from installing a porch roof to unplugging the septic system has to run its course. Nothing happens at a snap, nothing gets decided until it absolutely feels right.
And nothing yet feels right about our next escape together. Me, I feel we've already traveled there and back -- multiple times and to multiple destinations. I'm thinking we've talked this through so often that I'm ready to go elsewhere altogether -- and preferably a place that has only one airline, one airfare, one place to stay, one adventure to be had and then we turn around and come back home.
We are different that way. Who knew that I would get so stuck on a pattern of travel and that I would hate so much to deviate from it.? (I'll tell you who knew: the person who has been assiduously following Ocean, reading my daily accounts, where my breakfast of oatmeal and honey and kefir and fruits (from the yellow/red and blue families) along with a coffee has been the same, day in and day out, forever. Ed at least changes cereals!)
And, too, my less nomadic pal here at the farmhouse, has his habits and we are getting old and the habits and styles of living are getting to be as stiff as the bones and muscles after a day out with the shovel.
So, it is fair to say that we've decided nothing at all, or that our own ideas have not yet reached that sweet meeting point where we are both on board and happy to plunge. Not yet on board and not plunging anywhere -- not with cross country skiis through lovely villages far far away, not to a jungle hut in Central America, and not to Cyprus where Ed tells me we can rent both kayaks and bikes and skis, all from the same outfit!
In one day? -- I ask, somewhat dubiously.
Yep! I'll send you the link.
And crossing to Greek Cyprus -- that border poses no problems?
People do it all the time!
Legally?
The discussion ends there.
In the meantime, it rains that drizzly dark clouded rain and all I can say is that I am grateful for the red sheep shed because stuck as I am at my computer at the kitchen table, I see no other color before me. Oh, sure, the twinkling prch lights. But they're programmed to go on and off and when they're off, it's like someone clicked "black&white" on Photoshop and the entire image drained of color and only the sheep shed was spared.
In the evening, the younger ones come over for a dinner of tandoori chicken.
They look serious in this photo, but they are only playfully so.
Ed and I -- we appear light and airy tonight, but we are only marginally so. Trips are serious business for me. And I'm thinking (therefore?) that they are serious business for him as well.
You wont go white water-kayaking, you wont backpack through the rainforest...
It's true. I wont.
Sigh...
