For-EV-er, I've been telling my friends and family of my dreams to start an alpaca farm, a screen printing shop that puts ALL of the Blackman women to work and so many other of those from Saline County ... and the porn phone line ... and the bicycle cabins on Legion Road. I've not left those dreams behind and I be damned if the dream crushers will push me farther into the gutter .... However,
as I sit here tonight alone in front of this computer on a Friday night, I've seriously spent a good portion of my spare and valuable time surfing the Internet (yes, you cap it, people) looking for bicycle routes to travel cross country. I can't even make up my mind which direction in which to travel.
I would LOVE to bicycle out west (and I will), but those pesky Rocky Mountains make my thighs quiver. Then I think of the Carolinas and Virginia, which includes Barry O and the Lincoln monument. That makes me smile, but then you have those equally challenging Smoky Mountains....see a theme here?
I could go straight south through Kentucky, but the sound of banjos makes me squeal like a pig...(and not in a funny, cute way). North sounds nice, I've heard there are amazing trails in central Illinois. But is that really cross country, or just basically uphill?
So now, my lottery dreams are fueling my desire to load a backpack (one of those cool ones with the Camelbak for my endless supply of fluids) and a cute place for my ipod. I mean, really, who can travel long distance without Queen and Eminem and all of the friends.
As my ADHD kicks in, would it be safe for me to sleep roadside after my bedtime cocktail? I think not. They'd steal my 9mm and my ipod, god forbid my bike, then what would I do?
I have to have something to read, my mind would turn to mush. How will I charge my Kindle ... and my ipod? Books are heavy. Could I plan a route with only Hilton Gardens and libraries? I'm going to NEED good sheets. A girl can't be expected to travel like a nomad all day on a bike and not shave her legs.
I guess I'm looking for someone to plan my route, pack my bag (after shopping for me, you know I HATE to shop), schedule my stops ... and run the art dept, receiving, shipping, supplies, customer service (with a MFing smile).
I can't be ALL things to ALL people. With that said, the minute I get that email in my inbox saying my subscription has hit the big one (and once I can figure out my password to see the amount), I'm out of here. Paige can call Miranda for her needs. Kane needs no one. If I can remember to pack stamps (not to person packing, pack stamps), I'll send you all a postcard... (that's a false promise, but I'll post pics and stories along my route).
If I get raped and pillaged along my trip, please know that I've checked out doing what I love most. Someone feed my rabbits (and the alpacas) and don't let the kids auction off my first edition books for some meaningless pocket change.
