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Wan-der-lust

noun.

A strong, innate desire to rove or travel about.

If there is one thing that feeds wanderlust, it's sticking a farm girl with a propensity to travel behind a desk for nine months.

I had been talking with some friends about traveling to the UK in the fall because I had (and still have) a severe case of wanderlust. One friend thought he may be able to go, so we started planning. I looked up plane tickets, hostel prices, a basic outline of things we wanted to see and do.

And then he couldn't go anymore.

So I had to make a decision. Do I let the availability of others determine how much I live, what dreams I follow, what adventures I have? The past twenty-five years have been lived like that, and I was done.

I bought a plane ticket, then posted something facebook. It went like this

Alright, it's official. I'll be in the UK from Sept 12th thru Oct 3! England and Scotland here I come!

Comments:

Me: Also, if anyone knows anyone in the UK that I might stay with, let me know! It would cut down on costs considerably :)

Friend: stay with me?!

Me: Are you going to be there then? I thought you were going to be a little more south

Friend: spain is in november. im saying ill go with you and we can stay together! haha

And then, over text, I asked her if she was serious, and assured her that it was not out of facebook status comment obligation that I asked. 

Because really, buying that plane ticket earlier that day (or the day before, I can't remember) was one of the scariest things.

I'm not normally adventurous on my own. I don't wander around places by myself; I need someone else's adventurous energy to feed off of. Contemplating traveling around the UK alone terrified me. I felt extremely anxious every time the thought crossed my mind. My heart was racing and my hands were shaking as I bought that plane ticket. 

So when my friend, henceforth referred to as TC (traveling companion - I'm a bit of a Doctor Who fan) confirmed that she could, in fact, go, I was so relieved. So very relieved. A giant pressure that had been sitting on my chest for a while was gone. And even though I'll have almost a week by myself at the end of the trip, that seems far less scary then going the whole way by myself.

All that to say I'm going to the UK in September for three weeks. I'm still nervous (I'm not usually the one in charge of planning the intricacies of such adventures), but I'm also really excited. I'm also very thankful that TC can go with me!

Also, I quit my job. I'm done as of September 8th. This farm girl just couldn't take the monotony anymore.

No more

A year ago I was perusing a gift shop in Maine when I found myself staring at a square black magnet with white lettering.

"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." -Neale Donald Walsch

I bought it, and it sits loosely sticking to a metal picture frame on my shelf in my bedroom. Taunting me. Making me think over and over again how I have been "living" life in the most comfortable of zones.

A life that is neither interesting nor really true to who I believe I am. The boredom is the worst part. Because humans are not designed to be bored. We are meant to live, and really living leaves no room for boredom.

I love to read, but even one of my most favorite activities has become a gauge by which I determine how dull things have gotten.

I started a job in November. I can't complain about the pay, my coworkers, and even the my hours I have to work. And honestly, I'm thankful that I actually have a job. But on a scale from 1 to 10 in excitement, it rates about a 2. Fortunately I'm allowed to read at work. Otherwise I'm fairly certain I would have gone mad months ago. But still...

These aren't even all of them. I've added seven since this picture

I can't even read anymore for a while. It's gotten that bad.

So, why am I telling you this? I'm going to live a little. No more sitting inside behind a counter all day. No more boredom. No more living vicariously through characters in books.

No more comfort zone.

A Girl's Shoes Say a Lot

I like shoes. I don't really love wearing them all the time, and I often have a hard time finding shoes (I have a high instep and prefer not to wear giant heels because I'm already almost six feet tall), but I am thankful for the person who first thought to design a piece of clothing specifically for the foot. 

There are two pairs in particular that are my favorite. The first being a pair of Reef flip-flops that I bought at Busch Gardens last year because I was tired of walking around in sopping wet sneakers after going on a log flume. The second are these:

covered in concrete because I was JACKHAMMERING!

And not because I look pretty legit while wearing them, but because it means that I'm doing something that requires work boots. Or at least I think it requires work boots. And because I am kind of accident-prone so the additional protection is handy (I almost cut my toe off last year while chopping wood in Sambas).

Days that I wear my boots tend to end up pretty good days, like yesterday. 

We (being my mother and sister with minimal help from nephew #1) are in the process of deconstructing the foundation of a barn that was taking down last fall. 

love blue skies

A cicada nearly scared me to death during it's seemingly kamikaze plummet toward earth, but it ended up either being really bad at the whole kamikaze thing or was just doing it's normal thing because it was still alive. Naturally, niece #1 checked it out and showed it some love until the cicada flew away. She cried because then she knew for sure that she wouldn't be able to take the giant flying bug inside for rest time.

Fortunately she was over it in about 3.4 seconds. Fifteen minutes later she had a decently sized butterfly. That, however, was dead. I do not understand her fondness for the insect world, but at least someone is enjoying the creepy flying and/or crawling things of this world.

I'm thinking someone needs to get her a shadow box so she has somewhere to store all her entomological discoveries...