Wanderlust

Ever since we came back from the California trip I've had a bad case of itchy feet.  Not the kind of itchy feet you can cure by a trip to the drugstore and a two week supply of foot spray but the kind that can only be fixed by hitting the road.

(Last night I dreamt I was traveling the country in Fozzie's uncle's Studebaker from The Muppet Movie.) 

I believe the time has come to figure out where to go from here.  Returning to Olympia has only reinforced the belief that Olympia is not for me.  Still, I'm glad to have gotten out of Seattle but this is not the place to stop.  Maybe it's the extended hangover talking but I believe I should take stock and make plans.  I know Paul is none too happy to be back from the beach but he's mired in schoolwork and needs to concentrate on that.  I, on the other hand, have nothing to preoccupy my brain other than the deep yearning to travel.  I'm even beginning to obsess over it.  Walking back from the bank this afternoon I pondered the practicality of buying a used van, bolting the sofa into the back, packing up the cat and dog and taking off for parts unknown.  (In my fantasy we were all singing happy road trip songs, the roads were always paved, hitch-hikers always smelled good and the van never broke down or ran out of gas.  It was nice.)  My daily horoscope told me:   "Turn down your analytic engine and stop thinking so hard about things! Just relax."  So I'll take a trip down reality lane tomorrow.  For now I'll just build up the fantasy.  I can take it down later.