I got me a bad case of wanderlust. I got it something fierce.
I've been dreaming of spices and old buildings and beads. Always beads. And noodles.
I have a passport that sits in our safe. Just sits there. Ready. Empty pages.
I'm hungry for inspiration. I want to see something I've never seen before. Something I never knew existed.
Lately my thoughts have leapt out of the box. So far out of the box they cross oceans and continents. They fly over London and through the streets of Paris. They take me to the markets of Marrakech and on Safari in Tanzania.
The Sugar Daddy humors me so. I talk and talk. He listens, and on occasion throws in an idea or two. At the end of the day, when we lay our heads down to sleep, he says, "Sleep tight big dreamer."
And dream I do. Of Chinese fire dragons and aboriginals playing the didgeridoo. And beads.