less than ten days before i wash up on a different shore. by now i’ve let go of most anxiety and instead face the incredibly un-sexy and mundane details of planning a long trip. anyone who knows me knows that ‘planning’ is not my forté. no matter. i have an affinity for details – small things, really – like tattoos, unique ringtones, matching patterned ties and patterned shirts.
i make good coffee. i seek to expand my utilizable skill set past this abrupt phrase. i want to master the harmonica. i’ve got a handful of them and can’t play one lick more than is worth my weight in feathers or sand or marbles, all of which can be blenderized. i want to learn the intricacies of cutting fish for sushi or baking bread or making sauces or sniffing wine.
