The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Driving me nuts.
Driving me around the bend.
Forty miles of bad road.
Okay, just had to get that out of my system.
The middle of the night is when I have what I call my "moments." These last from an hour to three or more, and it's when I'm wide awake, often because of night sweats (yes, there will probably be quite a bit of reference to menopause and age-related looniness in this blog) where I have great ideas (road trip anyone?) plan things, solve problems, create new businesses, write letters in my mind, (I never manage to get up and put pencil to paper) and totally freak out about life and death, my family, the state of my relationships, if I tipped enough, and just general am-I-of-any-value-whatsoever-on-this-planet types of questions.
Last night the general topic was what the hell was I thinking? This already has been a common theme in my little pea brain as we're hurtleing down the highway doing about 60 miles an hour... Don't get me wrong, I'm still excited and committed to this entire adventure, but for the first two days the reality of this undertaking has been front and foremost. For instance, there is no way we can cover the number of miles we want to cover without spending more time in the RV than we necessarily want to - we've decided to shelve that conversation until we actually haven't been driving in the RV for 7 hours straight - and it's a little louder than Cork likes, which he mentions every 20 minutes or so, and the poopoo hose might be leaking, and the great getaway from the intensity of urban life is a little harder when Lily is plugged in to either her ipod or her phone or her computer all the time ... I have beautiful visions of opening the window and lobbing all of the technology out ....and right when all of this is screaming through my mind I almost knock myself out on a overhead door that someone has left open and I just break down and all my excitement and probably overblown fantasy about getting away from it all crumbles into a dismal picture of futility.. and all of this comes back to haunt me when I'm wide awake at 3:00 a.m.... and then I start to plan.
Quite frankly, my constant planning exhausts me and is hard on the spleen, I'm told. It's a beneficial talent if you're, say, an event planner or something, but as a way of life it's getting a little old. I'm making myself tired. Ergo, one of the reasons for the trip. Why exactly are we taking this trip? The answer will differ depending on whose blog you read. Cork wants inspiration. Lily is here because she has to be. Me? Well, for me it was the result of looking in the mirror one morning and thinking "Jesus Christos, what the hell is going on?" I still feel like I'm young, but the body just does not reflect that, and it's startleing. So it was either a road trip or a face lift ....
Ah, the fam just walked in so I gotta go...
So Whose Idea Was This Anyway?
Next Steps
