Sometimes I wish I were a nomad. Not "hitch-hiker" nomadic, maybe moreso comfortably nomadic. I can envision a year or so in Hawaii (my kids are hula obsessed...), maybe fly over, rent an RV in and spend a couple more years in Australia. Eat croc burgers if there is such a thing. Take little day excursions. Watch my babies pick up cute little oz accents, then on to the next place.
I'd see London. I'd see France; the parts I've not seen, Rocky old towns like Ez...or cross quicksand in a touristy excursion, with my children giggling all the way to Mont St Michel. (I suppose then they have to behave.)
Would I grow old and wonder where the years went? I don't suppose it would matter where I am, as those thoughts creep up on me already. Time goes by fast anyhow. You may as well make it eventful.
Why didn't I go to college? Why didn't I venture anywhere at all?
Maybe I'll get that letter this week. The letter that tells me Mr. George Nicholson would be delighted to represent my book. Not the letter that says Thank you for considering us, however...
Not that letter. The other one. The one that says, "Party- forget about the tuna helper! Tonight eat out. Maybe even get the steak! You deserve the steak, because you've done something grand." For the record, I don't actually put tuna in the tuna helper. I use canned ham. I didn't want you to think I was that nasty...Well, really who cares what you think?
Isn't every blogger out there in all honesty only typing to themselves?
I got it all out for today. I think I'm going to get on Ebay and buy the kids the Annie soundtrack. Today I overheard Naomi playing the Jimmy Buffett Christmas cd again. Seeing how its April, she may need some new material.
Thanks for reading my wee lil blog. i wish you well! your truly