PARADISE is overrated

This is my first blog post from my iPhone. (forgive errors please.) I’m without regular Internet, but in writing paradise at the end of a road with an abundance of dog love. This girl, right now, couldn’t want anything more.

The sale of the Roatan house (AKA ball-and-chain, AKA hard lesson learned, AKA the experience of a lifetime) became official yesterday when the proceeds hit my account at the credit union. It could have been an instant transfer to Bank of America, but I waited two weeks because I didn’t want them holding my money for a second. I’m loyal all the way to Missoula Federal Credit Union.

I’ve been wanting to write about my experiences on Roatan–and what got me in, out, and through it–but I needed to know how the story ended first.

Now I do.

The writing I’ve done about it thus far has been plagued with anger, resentment, and fear. Now, no more. I can tell an honest story that I hope will make people laugh, sigh, and thoughtfully (re)consider their own lives.

Today the serious writing of that story commences. No excuses. I have the time, the freedom, and the positive headspace to get it down and get it done. My Yogi tea fortune this afternoon:

say it straight, simple, and with a smile.

Perfection.

The working title of this book is PARADISE IS OVERRATED. Feel free to tell me your own stories of paradises you’ve known, both underrated and overrated.

Last weekend I experienced paradise in Venice, CA. What a town! It’s a cool place in it’s own right, but what made it magical were my wonderful tour guides Ed and Martha. Those two are the tops. Here’s a classic photo of me and Eddie and one of the soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Reap!

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