Blogging here will be sketchy for the next 2 weeks. Guido and I are leaving town for what Guido is calling a “delayed honeymoon.”
Does this mean we’re finally going to have sex?
“Keep talking,” she advises. “You may have already had your final sex.”
Ha ha! What a kidder, this redhead with the switchblade and the power of pussy.
A decade ago, I guy I worked with at IGFA (International Game Fish Association. I didn’t know that when I applied for the position. I thought it was, I Get Free Ass. Where were we?) moved out to “the rock” with his new wife to live out their retirement. He’s been inviting me out ever since, but I’ve never taken him up on it. If I’m working, there’s no time; if I’m NOT working, there’s no money. Sound familiar? It’s called, “Life.”
Guido and I passed a serious age milestone this year. Both of us have had treatment for cancer. I’m not working at the moment, and Guido’s self-employed. We’re doing this, godammit.
Today we fly to San Francisco, another place I’ve never visited (Guido was there years ago, before we started dating) and stay for 3 days/4 nights. Then we head for The Big Island, stay for 4 days. Finish with a murderous flight home which eats up 22 hours on the clock, about 16 in actual time.
Although I’ve gotten better at it, I don’t travel real well. I still have to consciously combat acrophobia, claustrophobia, and motion sickness. I’m hyper-sensitive to smells, so getting packed into planes and crowds invites nausea. I growl at people in uniforms and snarl at the corporate-speak you hear from airline personnel. The only place on god’s green earth where I want – crave! – a cigarette is an airport, where it’s damn near impossible to have one. All in all, I’m a wonderful travel companion.
So wish us the best, think of us fondly, and I’ll peek in now and again.