Progress is a town in Texas

Holy crap it's almost July!

To be honest, progress hasn't really been made on the trip planning. Chris is applying for a job that would keep us on the east coast for a few more months. He really wants this job so I am willing to put the trip on hold temporarily. Best girlfriend ever. I am still planning to quit my job and leave New York City at the end of July. I might get a freelance job in Philly or move down to South Carolina for a couple months or travel abroad. It's all up in the air until we hear back about this job. For some people this would cause panic, but I operate best under pressure.

I have 3 doctors appointments to make sure everything is okay with my health before I quit. It's my only fear about giving up my job: that I'll get sick and be without insurance. Until Universal Healthcare kicks in, such is American life. If I get a clean bill of health, I'm good to go. I'm so ready for this adventure. After five years of floundering in maddening office jobs, I want a break. Will I end up back in corporate America? It's a possibility. But I hope that I'll take advantage of this adventure to figure out what I really want to do.

It's easier said than done. I'm an inherent contradiction. I crave both adventure and stability. And as much as I hate working a 9 to 5, it does provide stability. Luckily I am in a relationship that will hopefully provide the stability I require while we pursue the adventure. This will be a true test of our relationship, our perseverance and our sanity. But that doesn't scare me. What scares me is looking back on my youth one day and being disappointed that I didn't take more risks and embrace change.

I'm doing this for 50 year old Zina. She's married with 3 teenaged gay sons and 4 elderly chihuahuas. She wears a (sequined) mumu on the weekends and can't remember the last time she had a vacation. But she looks back on her 20's and smiles. Her eyes light up as she regales her boys with stories of her well-spent youth. They listen to her tales, enraptured.

"My God" they think, "our hag has lived."