Oh the places...

The backpack is all stuffed with tent and clothing. I'm leaving on a jet plane knowing to the minute when I'll be back again, unless I get delayed by weather or maintenance or some unforeseen circumstances. I'm looking for a few of those starting after noon- weather, maintenance, and unforeseen circumstances. In the mornings though, all foreseen circumstances, please. After lunch, it's time to start wandering in my rented carriage. Chauffeur and passenger all rolled into one, I'll be a human Cordon Bleu and adventure will be my cheese. I have direction, as that seems to be my hot pants of late, but the plan is only loosely defined. I've packed freedom, of course, and underwear. I trust both will be clean and still fit tomorrow. There are certain things I need to take care of and certain things I have to admit to myself. I'll pay my respects to a dear friend by spending some time with the fishes. I may admit that the allure of the big city is less my style than the drive away from it. Or I may find the opposite- that the big city is an enormous powerful magnet and I am but a slender paperclip powerless against her pull. How quickly will I discover that my travels are much less profound and so much more Pictionary? Person. Place. Thing. Object. Action. Difficult. All play.