A friend wrote recently that it struck her that all the travel I do must require a lot of planning. Oh, does it ever! Of course, not everyone would agree that this is ultimately beneficial to the final outcome. Ed, for example, has lost patience with my desire to know ahead of time where it is that I am going. He would prefer to just go -- like one of those young folk on a journey of self discovery, testing limits, enduring whatever the weather gods throw down on you, finding a quiet gutter if no roof presents itself, or better yet -- a sandbar at a river's edge.
Not me. I love looking ahead at the bed I'll be sleeping on (for example) March 15th, or the seat on the train I'll be taking the next day. I love imagining how many minutes I'll need to make that transfer in St Erth or elsewhere. And googling options as to what should happen if I miss my connection. Stuff like this can keep me happy for hours. And the odd thing is -- it's not a new, "retired person's" fetish. I've been addicted to working out travel permutations since I was embarrassingly young. (Think teenager.) Honestly, it's one of my favorite distractions.
Not that I need a distraction. I am in the middle of a very lovely week, with a beautiful weekend before me. I am retired from paid employment, for God's sake! I am as free as I have ever been in my life.
And yet, here I go, from 5 a.m. in the morning, plunging into the permutations of a trip I am not scheduled to take until next Spring. Ed shakes his head, not in disbelief, but in the dismay that he surely feels for not having convinced me that I would have a better time if only I would let go of *planning.* I pat him on the head and return to the open tabs on my laptop.
Still, as my friend noted in her email, planning takes time and so if you would ask me what stands out from today, I'd remember that after hours of sitting propped up in bed, searching madly for this connection and that well-liked spot, I pause for breakfast...
...and then go right back to my notes and tabs. You could say that it is a day that had nothing to show for it. I would respond -- wrongo bongo! I got my spring trip all neatly tucked away now. (To say nothing of the one before.) Done and filed, even as images of it keep popping up in the most delightful way.
So that you are not completely dismayed at how un-blogworthy my day has been, let me put up a few chicken photos. Yes, Oreo is still here. No, chicken mama has not yet shown up to take him to "her father's place." Yes, I wouldn't be surprised if Ed secretly called her and told her to stay away. I have three lovely (but shy) hens and one cocky rooster here for now. It is what it is.
Here's my sweet, puffy Scotch...
And here's Butter, making herself skinny because of the stretch to chomp off a flower.
And finally, at our entrance, here are the plants that made it through the frost.
Later, much later, Ed played crazy 70s you tube melodies and I danced.
Not me. I love looking ahead at the bed I'll be sleeping on (for example) March 15th, or the seat on the train I'll be taking the next day. I love imagining how many minutes I'll need to make that transfer in St Erth or elsewhere. And googling options as to what should happen if I miss my connection. Stuff like this can keep me happy for hours. And the odd thing is -- it's not a new, "retired person's" fetish. I've been addicted to working out travel permutations since I was embarrassingly young. (Think teenager.) Honestly, it's one of my favorite distractions.
Not that I need a distraction. I am in the middle of a very lovely week, with a beautiful weekend before me. I am retired from paid employment, for God's sake! I am as free as I have ever been in my life.
And yet, here I go, from 5 a.m. in the morning, plunging into the permutations of a trip I am not scheduled to take until next Spring. Ed shakes his head, not in disbelief, but in the dismay that he surely feels for not having convinced me that I would have a better time if only I would let go of *planning.* I pat him on the head and return to the open tabs on my laptop.
Still, as my friend noted in her email, planning takes time and so if you would ask me what stands out from today, I'd remember that after hours of sitting propped up in bed, searching madly for this connection and that well-liked spot, I pause for breakfast...
...and then go right back to my notes and tabs. You could say that it is a day that had nothing to show for it. I would respond -- wrongo bongo! I got my spring trip all neatly tucked away now. (To say nothing of the one before.) Done and filed, even as images of it keep popping up in the most delightful way.
So that you are not completely dismayed at how un-blogworthy my day has been, let me put up a few chicken photos. Yes, Oreo is still here. No, chicken mama has not yet shown up to take him to "her father's place." Yes, I wouldn't be surprised if Ed secretly called her and told her to stay away. I have three lovely (but shy) hens and one cocky rooster here for now. It is what it is.
Here's my sweet, puffy Scotch...
And here's Butter, making herself skinny because of the stretch to chomp off a flower.
And finally, at our entrance, here are the plants that made it through the frost.
Later, much later, Ed played crazy 70s you tube melodies and I danced.
