Two years! That’s 24 months, 104 weeks, 730 days, 403 posts.
That’s right. Today marks exactly two years for A Place Called Roam; by design, a travel blog, but if you’ve been reading between the lines for the last two years, by default, it’s my lifeline to understanding where I’ve been and where I’m going. Thanks for listening. I need all the help I can get!
I’ve never been sixty (and then some) before; never been retired before, either. My life has always been filled to the brim with purpose, kids, chaos.
I’m evolving, again, morphing into the new me, shedding my skin (alas, not nearly as effectively as my younger self did) along with the kids and the chaos. It’s been as liberating as it has been frightening.
That’s right. Today marks exactly two years for A Place Called Roam; by design, a travel blog, but if you’ve been reading between the lines for the last two years, by default, it’s my lifeline to understanding where I’ve been and where I’m going. Thanks for listening. I need all the help I can get!
I’ve never been sixty (and then some) before; never been retired before, either. My life has always been filled to the brim with purpose, kids, chaos.
I’m evolving, again, morphing into the new me, shedding my skin (alas, not nearly as effectively as my younger self did) along with the kids and the chaos. It’s been as liberating as it has been frightening.
Ah, well, I remember the terror that gripped me years ago in the wee hours of the morning, with daylight working its way between the blinds on the window, when my body said “We’re done!” and commenced labor with a determination I had no idea I could match.
Yes, I broke my tailbone giving birth to my first child, but in typical fashion, I went right ahead and had two more; didn’t break my tailbone again, either. Nearly lost my life with the third one, but didn’t break my tailbone.
By the way, there’s plenty more where that came from; 403 reflections so far that run the gamut from astonishing to zany, colorful to wonderful, poignant to problematic. Oh, and a good bit of historical highlights, too.
My favorite posts tend to strike home with a truth revealed after much reflection (and all the voices in my head). Imagine, were it not for that reflection, I might never have discovered . . .
Yes, I broke my tailbone giving birth to my first child, but in typical fashion, I went right ahead and had two more; didn’t break my tailbone again, either. Nearly lost my life with the third one, but didn’t break my tailbone.
By the way, there’s plenty more where that came from; 403 reflections so far that run the gamut from astonishing to zany, colorful to wonderful, poignant to problematic. Oh, and a good bit of historical highlights, too.
My favorite posts tend to strike home with a truth revealed after much reflection (and all the voices in my head). Imagine, were it not for that reflection, I might never have discovered . . .
I rather like growing old, as long as I don't have to talk about my age.
There's nothing more liberating than the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, and hundreds of tourists spoiling the view.
Watch out for the huldufolk; they like to mess with your mind, your money, and your meds!
Sometimes the best way to fly is by the seat of your pants.
Of course, if nothing looks appealing in my personal favorites, you can always go with the masses and check out the most popular posts over the past two years. Lots of history, mystery, culture, people and places shared with my usual dash of salt and pepper via . . .
All those lovers and locks on Salzburg's bridge.
The colorful splendor and surprise of Melk Abbey.
The fascinating secrets of St. John's River.
Iceland's Gullfoss, a stunning picture of power.
Dining and dancing with Mt. Sinai’s Bedouin.
Daylight is itching to have her way again as the wee hours of the morning threaten to evaporate along with all the midnight oil I've burned. With my tailbone intact and my sanity questionable, as usual, I plan to plow ahead for at least another two years; my body isn't done yet! I have too much to explore, to discover, to sort through to turn back now.
Here's to being sixty (and then some), and to at least another two years together. You guys (and gals) have been great!
Here's to being sixty (and then some), and to at least another two years together. You guys (and gals) have been great!
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