Planning
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90 day hold?

Committed.  We are committed.

In my line of business, commitment means “Pink Papers” (literally) and getting someone sent for evaluation often against their will.  Such events often involve the police, swearing, a threat, and some kind of decompression afterwards.  It can involve a 24 hour and then a 3 day hold, a chance to assess someone and see if things are really okay.

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We are committing ourselves for three months.  A 90 day hold on our lives to reset.  We kept our wavering at home, though it was significant.  We’ve done at least three go rounds of “is this a bad idea?” and then dove in.  And now, with jobs winding down, and 8 travel books from the library scattered around us, more tabs than that open on our web browsers, we are going to make it happen.

I started at nine months leave.  I was pregnant with the idea of travel, of giving birth- who am I kidding, I just wanted to stop laboring with a shovel this winter.  When nine months seemed too decadent to ask for and when we were too chicken to be both unemployed, we settled on three months.  We’ve travelled for 3 weeks in India; wouldn’t four times that be decadent enough?

I’ve drafted 8 versions of itineraries.  Muscat (it’s in Oman- which I may have remembered with my undergraduate Map and the Modern World class but that was eons ago) sadly would have to be cut to accommodate the trimester trip.  But the second world not making it on the Round the World-ish itinerary will get me little sympathy I bet.  Maybe we’ll invent some new, non-hipster term for a sabbatical that’s not really paid leave, that doesn’t really cover the whole world, that is something you do when your friends go off and have babies or grow up or grow apart.

Apparently there’s the term “flashpacker” for an upscale backpacker.  How about a Skipster?  A 30 something who skips out for good reason to just live a little?  An antinestling- the opposite of a snow bird who still escapes winter and the establishment and maybe even tax season?  I bet I’ll have better names on a beach in Thailand after a few cocktails.  I’m committed to that.

This entry was posted in: Planning

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A wife, daughter, sister and proud auntie. A nomad, but not a saint (nor indian).

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