I forgot to mention.
I'm going to N'awlins. NOLA. New Orleans. Nouvelle Orleans.
I've got the plane tickets in my back pocket, and Our Dear Marquis is going to have a four day dent in his couch from the twelfth to the fifteenth.
I've got the time off work (not that there was any doubt at permission, just making the time to take), I've got a new pair of Converse sneakers, I've got a boyfriend in Chicago that week, and a lift to the airport.
I'm rather excited, despite the fact that my baby sister just informed me that no one actually speaks french in french Lousianne.
I haven't been anywhere outside here since this time last year.
I've lived in France, but that's switfly becoming "years ago". I'm planning to go to Turkey (or someplace equally un-american) with cf later in July.
I need to move.
I need to see more of this place before I start tying myself down on purpose.
And more importantly, I need to go somewhere I've never been, alone and courageous, and I need to remember myself outside the confines of what I've worked so hard to make my life.
How else am I going to truly appreciate it?
And more importantly -- Who wants to meet me there?
New Orleans. Noon. Saturday May 12th. Look for the girl with the bright curly hair, minimalist backpack, and contagious grin.
So who's going to join me there, eh?