And moving to Costa Rica?
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I'm reading my 7th graders' words about our last Literature book of the year, a memoir of growing up in the Iranian Revolution, and these words feel super important. The kids took on some heavy and profoundly relevant themes, and wrote some really great stuff. My heart is yet again full.
See, I feel exactly this way about them. They bring meaning and purpose to my life every day, and make it feel more fulfilling than the work of a lot of people who make many times more money than I do.
It also doesn't hurt that while most of those people will be trudging along in July, still making many times more money than I do, I'll be off on adventure in Alaska for darn near a month. :p
Flying. I'd really like to make that drive someday, but at this stage in life, I just don't have the time to then leave myself enough to explore the place upon arrival (to say nothing of the fact that I'm not looking to drive like 9000 miles under RV mileage conditions with gas prices being what they are).
My parents made that drive in their seventies. I think they ended up logging almost 10k miles on their vehicle over the course of ten weeks.
And then my dad had a massive heart attack outside of nowhere Canada and had to take a Lear jet to Seattle for care.
Getting that vehicle back was a massive PITA.
Dad's fine now, by the way.
Hey hey, I just got 1,000 business cards. I guess this is the equivalent of signing a two year contract.
That IS old school. The only thing I have used business cards for in the last 10 years is for putting in the raffle drawing jars in the exhibit halls at research conferences. Won a stuffed bear and a Coach bag.
My brother jokingly entered me for a free year of karate lessons one time while we were in line at Blimpie. I won. This was in the days when any mention of karate in our house would elicit a hard parental no, especially from my mother, who believed that it would position me to grow into some sort of pugilistic miscreant. Knowing this, and having no real interest in the lessons anyway (I was not an athletic child), I told the person who called to inform me of my exciting victory that I would not be partaking of the gratis martial arts education. They were perplexed.
Not sure why I told this story.
Pugilistic Miscreant: the Story of Wilson
Sounds like the name of your memoirs!
I might add "Pugilistic Miscreant" to the ever-burgeoning list of album titles for my (still) fictional metal band. This one, of course, would be a hand-to-hand combat-themed concept album (the Molöch's Vengeance catalog is heavy on concept albums, such as "Depravity at Sea," our nautically-themed entry).