The Everywhereist

Street sign, fully heeded.

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I’ve been to London a good number of times. We usually go at least once a year, sometimes twice, and the total number of trips Rand and I have taken there are numbering close to a dozen. I’m started convincing myself that I’ve seen all the city has to offer. I’ve been to tons of its museums – mainstays like the British Museum and more obscure ones like the Old Operating Theater and herb garret and the London Transport Museum. I’ve visited the Globe, and the Tate Modern, and the Tower of London; I’ve spent way, waaaay too much time shopping in Covent Garden and wandering around Borough Market.

I figured I’d seen London. Been there. Done that. Eaten those. Right?

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I’m having trouble getting my thoughts in order this week. I’m once again hit with the obvious realization that I can’t be everywhere at once – certainly not literally, and not even on this blog of mine.

We got back from Sydney less than 24 hours ago (and we left for Australia less than a week after we got back from London). I would very much like to tell you about that trip, but even in the short time since I’ve returned, a lot has happened. I’ve found myself thinking about the people in my life, and how I never feel like I give them the attention they deserve.

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As hard as it was to leave the resort, Rand made it bearable by planning a few more days in Cape Town before we had to go home (you guys, he’s SO smart. There are days when I think I should marry him twice. Is that a thing? Because it should be).

We stayed near the water in Mouille Point, and waking up every morning to this view helped take the edge off of not being in Bushman’s Kloof:

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Leaving the Kloof was hard. I’m not even going to pretend otherwise. It was blissful and beautiful and it pulled at my heartstrings a little to leave. Driving away, it felt like it was the last day of camp, or the morning after a really great slumber party (you know, the ones where no one breaks down crying and the first person to fall asleep doesn’t have peanut butter smeared on her toes by the other guests).

We’d had a lovely time, and we were happy about that, but damn it, it was hard to see it end. It was tough to say goodbye.

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Last month, we popped down to Portland for the weekend, with our pal Chrissy in tow. We’d been meaning to head down to PDX together for a while – our friend Skye had moved back out west after living in Baltimore for the last two years. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d all been in the same place at the same time. I think it was a few years ago, at least.

It was a brief but fun trip. We wandered around, without any destinations or plans. I didn’t even bring my camera.

That’s right: I didn’t take a single photo. Not a one. But Chrissy did. She was only armed with her phone, but the results are pretty damn great. She snapped this one of her and Skye, which I adore:

Yes, it was taken on Instagram. Quite, you.

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I occasionally wonder if I’m alone in the things I find humorous. I’ve laughed – often hysterically – at stuff that other people don’t seem to find funny.

Parenthetically, I REALLY got a kick out of it when this gentleman brought me a bib after I ordered crayfish.

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I usually figure that those other people are in bad moods, have lousy senses of humor, or are plagued with that affliction of sanity that I seem immune to.

And that’s okay, because while they can be better expected to pay their bills on time and be held accountable by a court of law, I feel like I get to squeeze a little more joy out of life.

Consequently, here’s some are some more signs that I saw in South Africa that brought me a great deal of joy. I hope you like them as well. Don’t fret if you don’t. It probably just means that you are a more productive member of society than I am. The sort of person who doesn’t eat frosting for breakfast.

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I swear, whoever put these up was just trying to spoil all my fun …

Honestly, making a spot off-limits to humans is tempting enough. But declaring it “Penguins Only”? THAT IS WHERE I WANT TO BE.

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Street crossing in Downtown Milwaukee.

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The main drawback of communicating mostly through sarcasm (if, indeed, there is any) is this: on the rare occasion when you are sincere, people don’t believe you. They think you are being a snide jerk, and the more you try to convince them otherwise, the worse it gets.

This happened time and again whenever someone asked me what I thought of Wisconsin (and of Milwaukee and Green Bay and the stretch of highway in between).

I answered them honestly. I loved it.

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