Quote of the Day:
“The secret of genius is to carry the child into old age, which means never losing your enthusiasm.” –Aldous Huxley
Have you heard the news yet? TB turns 40 this year. Surprisingly, I’m not the only one this is happening to this year. Even more surprisingly, hundreds I have heard, if not more, have previously experienced this damn dubious milestone. So why does it feel like this is some cruel joke the universe is only inflicting on me?
Anyway, I’ve been thinking of how to cushion the blow and for me the generic answer is easy–travel somewhere awesome. Ah, but where to go, that’s the rub. I want to wake up that fateful August morning some place beautiful and devoid of traffic. It must be a locale that is both affordable and accessible, but neither cheap nor easy–those were fine when I was but 30. There should be something to do that involves moving my rapidly aging bones before they turn to dust, be it a mountain hike or an ocean swim, or something similar. Strenuous, yet not overly dangerous. It probably needs to be a location I’ve yet to see and definitely north, south or west of Dixie. And if northwest, further north and/or west than the Great Plains, no offense Kansas. If an island my destination be, I’d like to be able to rent a boat and a golf cart for transport. If a mountain, I want waterfalls, off the road, but bear-free and within a mile. Carrying the Little Scamp uphill very far would qualify as overly dangerous for those drying bones of which I spake. I’m tantalized by the idea of a road trip down the Baja peninsula, drinking cerveza in the lonely desert, taking siesta with the old gauchos staring blankly in brotherhood from beneath my new sombrero, moving languidly, symbolically south to Cabo.
But I can’t decide. It must be perfect. Otherwise I am not certain I will survive the transformation. Suggestions? Has this ever happened to anyone else? This is a really big decision for me.