Around the world in 80 days

This weekend I bought a pair of ankle-length black jeans and a purple bicycle with a basket. All I need is an Hermes headscarf and a cobblestone street, and I can teleport to 1950s Rome. Spring is in the air, and I can taste summer. Can't wait. I want to eat summer with a steak knife and fork. Summer means sleeping in and books and vacation and food and beach and family and, best of all, no students. There is a weird conundrum occurring in my class: I feel less able to actually teach my students, but I also realize that I am getting to know them better and forging relationships. I don't want to leave them, and I feel a protectiveness toward them (maybe not the ones who write Fuck Ms. Ludwig on the desks, although I appreciate their formality). However, I'm pretty sure that I will only last 2 years in the teaching profession, tops. It makes you 'do too much,' as my kids say.

In an effort to think of greener pastures, Dawson and I have been debating the merits of moving vs. traveling. He claims they are not mutually exclusive, whereas I monitor the pursestrings and contend that at this point in our lives, they very well may be. I know that we have at least one more move in us, but I don't know when or where. I also know that it's been nearly five years since we've traveled abroad (it turns out being married takes a bite out of your wallet), and I'm coming down with a case of wanderlust. Also, serious contemplation of a map of the United States didn't help. It all seemed very red and/or cold. I drank a lot of wine to see if inspiration would strike. It did not. If we move, I kinda want it to be internationally for about a year, but that means learning another language. At this point, more school makes me nauseous. Also, there are the nephews to consider. They are getting too big too fast. Six to choose from, and you'd think at least one would have the grace to slow it down, but no. On the other hand, the older they get, the more able they'd be to visit. And who wouldn't want to visit a Tia and Tio who live in, oh, I don't know, Paris? The Woof is already well-suited for the French, what with her haughtiness and aloof ways. And she does love cheese...