2001-07-08 - 4:32 p.m.
[a written flowers project]
From the collab-mistress: "What is the most remarkable vacation story you have? It could be the story of how you got lost, fell in love, got stuck with your relatives, or whatever. What significance did this experience have for your life once you arrived back home? Tell us about it! I just came back from a fairly weird vacation myself. So spill the beans."
[Mechaieh succumbs to the urge to put on the Go-Go's as she ponders the topic.]
It's awfully tempting to be coy and reply, "My most remarkable vacation hasn't happened yet." After all, not only is there The List, but I'm also yearning to visit friends in Philadelphia, San Francisco, Arizona and Maine, and Kale was telling me about Amsterdam, and I want to get back to Detroit to see Contact, and talking about Chicago over lunch today brought on a wave of homesickness, and, and, and...
...and, frankly, my life isn't the kind where one can point to a "most remarkable" moment, vacationing or otherwise. I'm struggling with this month's If question for the same reason: there's never just one. I'm resistant to categorizing anything as my mostest or my only - especially if I don't know that you'll understand that I will give you a different answer tonight, and another answer tomorrow, and still yet another variation a year from now. Not because I'm incapable of making up my mind, but because my life has multiple dimensions, and different things are going to matter at different times.
But as is my wont, I think I'm taking the topic a trifle too seriously, so I'll try to lighten up here. Some of my more memorable holidays? Let's see:
Boston. . .
How did these change my life back home? I'm more confident visiting unfamiliar cities. I learned that I should root for the Tottenham Hotspurs and the Glasgow Rangers. I wear my leather jacket with slightly more panache than before. I recommend visiting Canada instead of Cancun for spring break. I think of homemade grape jelly and Siamese cats named Kiwi when I remember the hysteria over Princess Diana (that, and Che's opening song in Evita: "Oh what a circus, oh what a show..."). I have fun anecdotes for dinner conversation (come to think of it, I've mentioned both the 21st District and the bunny kebabs over recent suppers). . .
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