I’m waiting at my gate and can neither believe I am doing this, nor that I haven’t before. I clearly see what stood in my way, but why didn’t I side step it?
I’ll be having lunch in Rome tomorrow, and every day after for the next eight weeks (give or take a few for my forays into other lands).
I’m coming home with two published articles and – so help me God – a book ready for the editor. I don’t know what this means for my blogging frequency. We’ll both find out together.
Mike and I spent the last week remembering the things he needed to be briefed on before he becomes king of the castle for the summer. On Wednesday, he broached the delicate subject of my mortality.
“If something happens, do you want your body sent home, or your ashes?”
I am amazed he had to ask. “Have me cremated there and don’t you dare send me back to the States.”
So I think we’ve covered everything.