It Might As Well Be Me

Sometimes, I complain about my job. I really don't know why. It's not like I'm working in the mines or something. I basically sit all day at a desk reading, writing, reconstructing sentences, fixing punctuation errors (which I loathe). It is relentless at times, I guess; the deadlines are always THERE. Taunting me. You'll never make it You'll never make it You'll never make it...

Sometimes it's a grind, and I'm like: "Haven't we already done this story before?" Things can start to meld together. But it's all relevant, right? Because somebody, somewhere will be at a point in their life when this information could be useful. Even after all of these years, it happens to me all the time.

Then once in a while, we will be presented with an opportunity to do a story on something fun and interesting. Jeff, our publisher wants a travel issue. Great! We have an upcoming trip to Sonora planned. I am sent invites to many places - Ojai? Michigan? Scottsdale? This could and should be fun.

But then... I get an invite for a press trip to French Polynesia. I ponder it for a moment, my finger hovering over the 'delete' button. How in the world am I going to just up and leave for Bora Bora? I've got kids and deadlines and work just piling up all around me. International travel at this moment is probably out of the question. I forward the message to Jeff anyway. I doubt it will get approved.

But then suddenly, things are set in motion. I am to renew my passport ASAP and make this story happen.

So now I'm working on our travel issue and so excited to be putting together the entire issue, featuring a trip to the incomparable South Seas. I've been places, but nowhere like this.

What would you call this color of blue?

Now, Sonora was fun too. But really, how can one compare?
(My travel companions for the Sonora trip)

So I'm working on these stories for our upcoming issue. Someone's gotta do it -- it might as well be me. Stay tuned.