The husband and I have always been wanderers. If not in actual life, then in our heads. We were ready to drop everything and move to China. We’d move just about anywhere in the world. Being in Arkansas was a product of what happened last summer, and I knew it wouldn’t be permanent.

We’re headed to San Diego, where we will be for a while.

We’re still nomads at heart, but Max is getting older, and needs stability. He can’t fear we’ll move every year. So we’re dedicated to staying around for a while so he can build roots.

As for me, I’m thrilled. I’ve always wanted to live in San Diego. It’s like Orlando, only moderate temperatures year ’round (I can do without humidity). There are so many things I want to do there, like visit all the museums at Balboa park, shop at the green, eco friendly grocery stores, enjoy the sunshine, take Max to Legoland, learn to surf (after the snowboard incident I may wait a while on this goal)…and we’ve got time to do it all.

I actually have a long-time friend in San Diego, so that’s an added bonus. And there’s an IKEA! Heaven.

I’ll miss a few (very few) people here, but I’m grateful for the bonus time I’ve gotten to spend with people like my mom, best friend and her family.

Meanwhile, my house is emptying out and I can’t find anything.

Mom is driving with Max and I to California then flying back. We’re going across Route 66 for an adventure. I’ll be taking lots of photos w/ my new camera, so stay tuned for that (but forgive me if I don’t have time to post them!).

Wish me well. See you across country!

I keep telling people this story, so I have to share it with you guys.

Learning to ski, naturally, I had my fair share of falls. After Day 1 when I failed miserably at snowboarding and fell on my tailbone, I was understandably wary of falling again. Still the day progressed and I was okay.

Until…

I was zigzagging down the baby hill, doing my thing, when panic set in. I was going too fast. I tried to snow plow (apparently the hub was yelling “Snow plow, Susan, snow plow!” My thighs hurt so bad, I thought smoke was coming off them.

I was headed toward a snow bank, so I thought, “Ok, worse case is I break my fall by running into that bank.”

Heh.

Somehow the snow bank turned into a ramp and I skiied right up it, twisted around and sat down with my skis tilted above my head.

I come to my sense and see a horrified guy on a snowboard headed my way. And then I see my husband, snickering. I start laughing, since I realize I’m fine, just stunned. The guy goes the other way. Husband untangles me. I was fine.

Skiing is so fun.

I was thinking how scared we get as we get older. There were these little kids, like 2, who were skiing with no problems. Yet fear inhibited many of the adults in the beginner class. Why is that? I fell and I was fine. We lose that confidence somewhere along the line.

Aaaah. It’s all but vanished, but I’m bringing back the great feeling of being on vacation with my husband…and not my son.

The hub surprised me at Christmas with a trip to Montreal and nearby Mont Tremblant to learn to ski and snowboard for our anniversary. It was perfect. Let me share that story.

As far back as September, when we were still working things out, I’d get a letter in the mail every week. In it was just a paper that said “MMIM?” He wouldn’t tell me what it meant, and I couldn’t figure it out. I forgot about it.

At Christmas, I opened a box that had all this fleur de lis stuff in it. It’s a French symbol, and one they use in French speaking Montreal. There was an envelope with “MMIM?” on it.

He wanted me to Meet (Me) Him in Montreal.

AWWWWWW.

He’d been planning it forever.

Flash forward to the trip. So romantic.

I hated snowboarding and ended that day by falling on my tailbone, which, 2 weeks later, still hurts. Skiing, fortunately, was much easier. It was both of our first times. We stayed in a beautiful condo nestled into the mountain and ate lots of delicious wine and cheese. Seems like all we did was eat, after burning calories all day. We had fires. We talked. We reconnected. It was good.

We headed back to Montreal and braced ourselves against the bitterly cold wind in search of Indian food.  When we finally found it, it was well worth it. Best damn Indian food we’ve ever had.

We got to speak French, which is rare for us, but we love it.

See for yourself. Great times.