Here I sit, just a few weeks from leaving on a trip for which I haven't even bought a ticket. I think the dreaming and scheming is supposed to come after you buy the ticket, but, well, eh. Since I've never had so much freedom, I suppose I'm allowed to mess things up a little.
Things are rather mixed up. I'm about to embark on a year of adventures, a year of doing things I've only dreamed about, that maybe even a lot of other people have dreamed about. And I can't wait. Seriously, I'm ecstatic and nervous and... And yet, not to get sappy on the first post here, folks, but I'm about to spend the next four, count 'em 4, years away from the man I love.
Some very persuasive friends have encouraged me to start this blog, to catalog my adventures of travel and, perhaps most importantly, food. You see, this little adventure of mine is going to involve working at a cooking school in France. France, people! Plus, I'm quite interested in cooking and food and wine and that whole world, so it seems only natural that I catalog my adventures in this forum, sharing the skills I learn, the sights I see and the tastes I experience.
I went bungee jumping once, and right before I jumped, I attempted to take a deep breath. I say attempted because by the time I was on the ledge my chest had constricted so much that I doubt I was actually breathing at all. Well, right at that moment, the Michelle Branch song "Breathe" came into my head and stayed with me while I jumped and fell...and then fell some more. It was exhilarating, to say the least.
I've always thought that everyone should have their own soundtrack. There was that one summer at the pool where it was "Allstar" (You know the one: "Hey now, you're on allstar, get your game on, go play"), and for one solid year it was the Pink Martini "Sympathique" album. Anyway, now, whenever I feel myself about to do something even remotely frightening, I feel my chest constrict and that Michelle Branch tune pops into my head.