When does "loafing the soul", as Tom calls it, turn into being a slacker? When does taking needed time off from the fast-track turn into whatever this "sabbatical" is turning into? I did nothing today. I went over to Starbucks formerly the Coffee Connection around 10:15 for my morning coffee. I left there at 2:00 and miraculously didn't get a parking ticket. I did writing practice, read the Globe, read the stack of articles Julie gave me about The Alliance to read for tonight. Tom came in. I ordered a second coffee and a scone. We chatted about The Alliance. I noticed a woman walking down Main Street carrying a cylindrical purse made out of a license plate and two shiny circles of aluminum. That got us both into observing what kind of purses women carry, if they carry them, how they carry them , what gestures they make to verify that they have them under control, etc. This went on until Sue (who does not carry a purse) came in and sat down with us. We talked about her relatives who are visiting from Indiana, growing up Catholic in Indiana (not many Catholics there), and somehow got onto business dinners in Japan. Sue left. A guy I knew from tai chi class who knew Tom from somewhere else stopped by and caught Tom up on the latest family news. Finally, I decided I had better go find out if I'd gotten a ticket. I got to the meter steps before the cop. Lucky me. The universe gave me an extra 1 3/4 hours ...
I bought a loaf of bread at the Earthfood Store to bring to Tom & Julie's tonight for the Alliance discussion. I drove down to Petco on 114 to buy a 1 gallon fishbowl for my bizarre glass project. The 2 1/2 gallon bowl wasn't giving me the effect I want. I ate a late lunch at Val's and walked out without my change. Now here I am having accomplished practically nothing on a day when my only scheduled event is dinner tonight at 6:00.
I never did call the travel agent to find out why 3 business days have gone by without my hearing from them. I will call tomorrow morning and change my plans. At this point I just want to get to Vladivostok in one piece on time for the expedition and to get home afterward in one piece. Stopping in northern Japan on the way back is a dumb idea. Even though Hokkaido is close to Russia, getting there from Russia is apparently something that even the recommended travel agent of Earthwatch can't handle. I feel guilty for even having requested such an unusual itinerary. I should just use my frequent flyer miles to go back to Japan another time. Gee, why is it my fault the travel agent is having trouble with this?
I've been reading Jeff Greenwald's The Size of the World . It has convinced me that just because places are close to each other on the map doesn't mean one can get from there to there and from there to here. I was surprised to read that Greenwald's journey took place around his 40th birthday. I would've thought a project like that would be done by someone much younger. Why he's close to my age even (I'm 45)! How can it be that I'm an obsolete over the hill fossil from the Jurassic era of the computer industry? That aside (I'll deal with obsolescence in a future entry), the whole idea of the world as a real place with real boundaries and physically connected spaces is getting obscured these days.
Heck, 4 years ago I couldn't have even considered going to Valdivostok and now I'm having trouble getting a flight.
I've been dragging my feet on preparing for this expedition in a lot of ways. My initial enthusiasm has faded in the light of the logistics and my usual fears of leaving home. I don't fear the traveling. I fear not being at home. The minute my flight takes off from Logan, my day to day world stops existing. Wilbur will still be meowing to be fed every hour. The mockingbird will still be imitating a car alarm. The cats at the shelter will still need to be fed and the plovers guarded. This is exactly the same fear I used to experience whenever I took vacation from work. It would all be going on without me and would be irrevocably changed in some unpleasant way when I returned. Now that I'm on perpetual vacation, one would think I'd be less worried about these things.