Notes from the Red Bird House

I wrote this a couple weeks back, on a Friday evening, as I prepared for the second of three legs on my journey to Stockholm, Sweden. I love to travel and I love going new places. Sort of. There is always a moment of uncertainty, just a moment, before I realize that it's going to be ok, That I'm going to be ok. What lies below IS that moment...in writing. ~ The chaos is coming. It always does. I’ll get used to it. Sort of. As best I can. I simultaneously like it and hate it. It unsettles me, makes my stomach churn, my head throb, my heart beat quicken. But it’s only a test. A test that I can pass. A test that inevitably brings out the best in me and makes me stronger. Perhaps one day it will make me more confident. Better able to deal, less likely to worry. I have to acknowledge it, though. Where I am with it. I can feel it creeping in. Houston is still the US, yet its newness to me is off-putting. I try to call it just another airport – I’ve been to quite a few over th...

My girlfriend went to New Orleans for her birthday [It's probably best if you get over the fact that we travel separately and alone. I've said it many times before - It works for us. It doesn't have to work for you]. By all measures, she had a great time - did the aquarium, listened to music in Jackson Square, got a free drink or two on her birthday, watched NCIS New Orleans being filmed. She came home with an assortment of stories.  And a set of voodoo dolls for me. It wasn't a random gift. I'd hinted that it would be "cool" to have a voodoo doll, especially if it looked like my boss. Who I love. Seriously. My apologies to all the other bosses I've had over the years, but this one's the bomb. Then I added that maybe it would be "fun" to have a set of four - one for each of the big bosses at my big box retail employer. The bosses are all great. I truly enjoy working with them and for them. Still, I thought of voodoo dolls. I've li...

My latest idea goes like this. Thirty running tours in thirty European cities in thirty days. It sounds like a blast to me. See Europe. Run Europe. Write Europe. For a month. A MONTH! Of course, the downside is that I'll have to run 8-10km a day for thirty days. On forty-nine year old legs. Pish-posh. Nothing easy is ever really worth trying. Besides if I fail, I'll have failed in Europe and, with the right spin, it'll still make for a good story. And ultimately, that's what matters. I've almost let the luke warm response I've gotten from people get me down. Invariably, heads sink into necks, eyes narrow to a quizzical near-scowl, and lips purse. No vocalized nay-saying is required. Facial expressions and body language are more than plenty. The "Huhs" and "Whhhyyyyys" come through loud and clear. So, why do I want to do run thirty running tours in thirty cities in thirty days (The 30-30-30)? Give me a few minutes of your time and I'l...

Lately, people - friends, co-workers, social networking acquaintances - have been telling me I should be a travel writer. I guess they know of my two loves, writing and travel, and think I should combine them. I appreciate the sentiment and the idea, but I've yet to utter a resounding, "I know!" Because, frankly, I don't know. I mean, it would be awesome - AWESOME - to get paid to write AND travel. But seriously... What would that even look like and why would anyone pay me to do it? I'm not a "foodie" and I don't drink or do "night-life", luxury, "hot-spots", or crowds. So, what in the hell do I do when I travel if I don't do any of the traditional guide-book-tourist activities? And moreover, why do I even bother doing it at all? Right? Let's remember one fact - I'm an INTROVERT (Perhaps a slightly extroverted one when the circumstances and my mindset are both favorable, but don't let that little bit of misdire...