I don’t even know where I am… in a Nyquil daze

Oy. My chest. A co-worker, describing the illness he recently got over, put it best: I have become a phlegm-monster. Or at least She From Whome Alle Phlegm-Monsters Flow. Seriously. There are things coming out of my body that surprise and horrify me. And they may try to take over the city soon.

But that’s enough of that. What else… let’s see… Lots of time on the internets recently…

I learned that there’s a fake door in Paris, installed as an art project years ago, that still stands to this day. I wonder if people send pizza to it, like the fake house near Paddington. I’d love to live near something like that. I’d decorate it for holidays; leave little notes on the door; challenge my friends to ding-dong-ditch one of them.

And I learned that New Zealand is the number 1 country to live in, if you want to avoid world conflict. Like that’s a surprise.

I learned that I’m desperate to travel again. I am so hungry for a road trip, I can feel my head starting to vibrate. I’m not sure how that equates, it’s just what came out. Actually, wait. Yeah. I get so high-strung and tensed-up that my head just starts to shake, and the only thing that knocks the shimmies out is an equal and answering road shimmy. Cure like with like. Or meet force with force. Or something. Just get me moving!

At the top of my list is Alaska. It’s one of the last 2 states I need to hit, and I’ve been wanting to drive north past Vancouver for as long as I can remember. Since I listened to Tom Bodett’s “The End of the Road” on a book-on-tape in my parents’ old station wagon. I must have been 10 or 11 when I first heard it, and it was the phrase and location more than the stories that stuck with me. Even then, before I could drive, I knew that if there was an end of the road somewhere, I wanted to drive there. And wow, huge google sidetrack. Publisher’s Weekly gave The End of the Road a horrible review! Brats. I think I’ll go re-read it, because I’m sure my 10-year old reading was much more valid than theirs.

Then comes Texas, a state of such girth that I feel I skimmed much too quickly over. Plus there’s this AMAZING new studio out there, MMOV, that I am dying to check out. But… it’s summer. And I’m still in good ol’ Tach, my valiant pickup, he of the absolutely-zero-frills, especially-not-AC-are-you-kidding. Therefore Alaska is taking precedence.

So. Anyone wanna go halfsies on the gas up and back? Quick trip to the Yukon? We just missed the midnight sun, but I bet it’ll be pretty darn awesome still. You’ll have to split the bed in the back of the truck with me, since I’m too cheap for motels. But it’s cool; I’m sure my phlegm-monster will have moved on to Manhattan by then.

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2 thoughts on “I don’t even know where I am… in a Nyquil daze

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  1. Not sure I’m up for Alaska this year, but how about southern Utah? It’s only about mid 80s in the day and super low humidity. goes down to the low 60’s, high 50s at night. sweet!

    1. Oooo… tempted. But as much as I love southern Utah, I’ve been there! And it’s the unseen that’s calling me. Still, it’s a lot closer and gorgeous… Putting in for a vacation request now, we’ll see what happens.

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