I love going to Nevada City for our annual bear show.
Even when its not a good show financially, I love seeing the people there that I only get to see once a year.
I love the wonderful old (over 100 years!) building the show is in.
I love getting to have some time after the show to visit with my artist friend in San Jose.
I love walking down the street in the town I lived in and eating lunch at the little restaurant, sitting outdoors (in April!) at the quaint little metal tables, actually having a friendly conversation with strangers.
Thing is, it also means I hate to come home. After all these years, it finally dawned on me (ok, I'm SLOOOOOOWWWWW!) why have seem to have this "funk" that sets in for a few days when I return.
Aside from the "I've traveled for 2 days and I'm tired" thing, I come home to the ordinary, mundane things that eat up our lives....laundry and grocery shopping and paperwork (ie: paying the bills).
That walking down the street for coffee and talking to people and writing at the table and sharing art with friends is the life I want to live. Unfortunately, it seems I'm sort of stuck with laundry and snow (yes, its snowing here AGAIN!) and isolation.
Yes folks, it reminds me of a lyric from a Broadway show that only ran one night: "...another life, I want another life.....and every where I ever go, I'm someone who they want to know..."
1 comment:
I know just what you mean. When I feel that way I sometimes treat myself as if I'm on a trip. I go to a cafe for lunch, with my book, and stay a while. Then I take the street car a few blocks, and just wander a park or museum. It makes home seem more interesting.
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