Despite my deep-seeded fear of the hurtling steel death trap the rest of you refer to as a plane, I love to travel. Love it. About the only thing I love more than traveling is writing. In my dream world—the place I actually hope to reside in full-time someday—it looks something like this: Write book, travel for a month, write another book, travel for a month, write another book, travel for a month, etc. There are few places in the world I don’t want to go. Iraq being one. For now. Maybe I’ll check it out later, after thing settle down and people stop trying to kill each other.
Prominently displayed on my Favorites list on Internet Explorer is The Weather Network. Yesterday, with the sunshine pouring in for the first time in what felt like weeks and the blue sky blinding in its brilliance, I sat at my pod, restless, itchy to be on the move, and logged on. Softball is on Sunday, so I checked out the long range forecast. Chance of showers. Go figure.
Then suddenly I thought, ‘huh…wonder what it’s like in Aberdeen today’ (because in my dream world I also have a castle in the Highlands…it’s a nice place, you should drop by sometime if you’re ever in the area). Then, while I was there, I thought, hey might as well zip on over to Glasgow. I stayed a bit, then made my way to Edinburgh. And of course, if I’m in Edinburgh, why not just pop on down to London? (I had tea with the Queen. She sends her regards.)
But again, the restlessness set in. I couldn’t stay in London (it was rainy after all and I was in search of sunnier pastures). I went to Sydney, Beijing, Moscow, Munich (I picked up some lederhosen and nibbled on some brautwurst). It was sunny in Siberia, but still rather cold. I moved on. Havana, Cairo, Tuscany (purchased a lovely little villa there I simply must get back to). I swung by Zimbabwe then heard Rio de Janeiro calling my name. I meringued with a handsome Spanish dancer in Madrid and checked things out in Reno, a pre-scouting trip before I head down in July. Finally the lure of Scotland pulled me back and I settled in for a large pint of Guinness to quench my thirst. I kicked up my feet and soaked in the sounds and smells and decided maybe I’d stay awhile.
“You got that report done yet?”
Sigh. Jerked out of la-la land by the sound of my boss’s voice. Yessss…I’ve got your stupid report done. My feet hit the hardwood floor. I took a final swig of my Guinness and plodded back to reality. As I swiveled my mouse and clicked the print button on my screen I realized, with a certain amount of horror, I had forgotten all about France. But you know, according to my sources, Paris is sunny and warm today and I hear le Grand Cobert serves the most delectable profiteroles, and I do love anything smothered in hot chocolate sauce.