I’m at the point where every town we pass, I think “I could live there.”
I’m at the point where every hotel painting I see, I think “That could be a good job for me, painting pictures of garden gates and checkered tablecloths.”
I’m at the point where I want to do just about anything but sit in the car, or repack dirty clothes into my suitcase, or try to make my hair look decent. Scratch that one – I gave up on grooming a few cities back.
My daughter’s roommate Libby said, “You two look amazing.”
I think she means we look frightening.
I just smiled at a little girl in Starbucks, and she hid behind her mother’s leg.