sundial

Back in August, S and I sat outside on Bowen and I talked about this idea of spending winters somewhere else. I was not so sure yet. I was worried about being alone and feeling isolated and depressed.

Ha ha ha.

Yesterday we cruised around the island and talked about this idea of going somewhere new every year, and whether we would live long enough to see everything we wanted to see. We decided no, we wouldn't - we'd need to go somewhere new several times a year. Our conversation was interrupted many times by having to point and yell at something obscenely beautiful. We talked over the risks of realizing one day that we've turned 40 and still are single adventuring women, happy but without babies. We agreed to remind each other to stop to grab a man along the way, not too late but not too soon, a man to do the job.
We stopped for beer and pineapple. We stopped for bubblegum and ginger chews. We spotted geeps and pidgeots (goat-sheep and parrot-pidgeons). We looked down thousand-feet cliffs and were scared. We drove through landscapes that could have been Tuscany, Ireland, Nicaragua, Osoyoos, Gondor and Mordor. We listened to a Prince song and found nothing else on the radio. It was a good long drive and it was faster, oh so much faster than riding a scooter.

Now it's early morning, S is still sleeping, and it's pouring rain outside. There was thunder and lightening all night; I dreamt of going down the Steepest Slide known to man, and winning the race because I wasn't afraid.

I have one week left as of today. A little bird is sitting on a banana leaf outside, shaking water off his wings. I'm on my 3rd cup of tea.

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