We fly out on Saturday.
The economy, this whole GM tornado that has my job in such a turmoil--ripping it out of the ground and tossing it about like a Kansas farmhouse--we're just going to ignore it.
We wondered for a moment or two if it wasn't a good time to take a trip. With my job on the line, with money so tight. But we saved and scrimped and we have hard cash on the barrelhead to pay for it. In the end, when they're lowering us in the grave we're not going to care one way or another. No one is going to care one way or another.
We could save the money. We could save my vacation time that would be handed back to me in cash if or when I get laid off. It would give us maybe a two-month cushion. Maybe.
I can't wait for 8:30 on Saturday, when the Continental jet's tires will leave the earth. I love that feeling. All the anxiety and worry of leaving will be gone. Job. Money. My kids and guilt. Thanksgiving. I know. It always happens for me. When the plane leaves the ground I always think, now it really is out of my hand. By 9:00--or at least by 9:30--I'm hoping to be tucked into my seat with a Bloody Mary and book in hand, wondering what's in store for the next two weeks.
And I think sometimes you just have to live, despite whatever the world flings at you. Sue and I have dreams. We want to travel, explore the world. She's done so much of it. I did a long time ago. We both want to get back to it. Live free, vagabonds on the earth. I can't think of a more noble occupation, to tell the truth.
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