This one time, I had no idea

Well, this week has been interesting. 

I spent Canada Day long weekend with two of my favorite people in the world. I drove 7 hours to Valemount, BC to visit a couple of gays and their new cabin. It was quiet, and peaceful, and amazingly perfect. I came back to face the week with some much needed clarity.

Then Monday happened, and all clarity went away. Now I'm left without an anchor, and without a reason to be logical. 

For the first time in many years, I have the chance to choose the life I want. But that begs the question, 'What do I want?'

My plan has changed several times since Monday and I expect it will change many more times in the coming weeks. I think that's normal. Right?! There are just so many things to consider! And I suppose, I will never know what the right answer is, but in the coming weeks, an answer will have to be made. No 'ifs', 'ands', or 'buts' about it.

This shit's about to get real. 

A brief pause

I'll get back to the Olympic recap in a day or two, I promise. I just have to stop for a second and breathe.

Tomorrow I'm leaving for Paris.

It felt, for some time, like tomorrow would never be ... tomorrow.

And now it's here.

Oh, and I can't wait to land in Paris. I love that final descent into a new city - looking down, seeing a whole new, unexplored place. I will never forget the first time I landed at LaGuardia, I knew I was in love.

What will this descent be like? Will I like Paris as much as I love New York? Will I be laughed out of the city for not speaking even a hint of French?

The excitement, the wonder, the, well, the everything. I have heard so much about this city, from so many different people. Will the city live up to they hype?

We shall see.

My bags are packed. The outfits have all been carefully selected, with consideration given to form over function. Fuck function - I want fabulous.

I might not sleep tonight. I'm totally ok with it. I'll sleep on the plane. This feeling is too rare to be wasted sleeping.

Wanderlust

The problem with vacations, even short ones, is that they get me all ... distracted.

I come home and well, it is the last place I want to be. I would rather be on the beach somewhere, or exploring some fantastic city, with some fantastic person.

But instead, I am here, typing away, wishing I was anywhere but here.

ANYWHERE.

This week, when I returned to work, for the first time in a while, I wished I was retired.

Tangent - why is retirement wasted on the old? I mean, I would have WAY more fun retired right now than any old person. Give me my CPP now, and I will start working again at 35 and slave away for the rest of my days. I don't care.

So, where am I wanderlusting to?

Paris.

There's a side-story you need for some context.

When I was 14, my dad took me to the UK with his family. His family and I have had, let's say a rocky relationship.

While we were there, we took the Chunnel to Calais, France. As he was in the cafe buying lunch, he realized that Paris was only a 45-minute train ride.

He came out of the cafe excited - and he never gets excited.

"Iris! Paris is only 45-minutes away. Let's go. You and me and Paris!"

I had never been more excited for anything - PARIS?! For reals?

Well, this idea was quickly shot down by his sister. Apparently this was a family trip, and a visit to Paris with just he and I did not qualify as a family trip.

Fuck that.

Paris was so close ... like Westlock close, and I didn't get to go.

*sob*

Recently, after many glasses of wine, my dad confessed one of his biggest regrets to me - not saying screw you to his family and taking me to Paris anyways.

This made me want the city even more. This city that was so close ... in my grasp almost, but so far away.

I haven't been back to Europe since and when I go again, it will be very different.

That is why I am thinking about skipping a family Christmas, because, well, they never go well, and heading to Europe.

What could be more lovely than spending a week in gay Paris in solitude? The city, me and who knows what.

sigh.

I think it might just be a pipe-dream though. My mother would kick my ass if I missed a holiday with her.

Although she did just have heart surgery - that might have slowed her down a little. I'm sure she doesn't pack the same punch she used to.