Sat down on the street, took a look at myself

I realized just now that in a week's time, EK and I are going to be hitting the skies, and embarking on a trip we've been talking about doing for a while now, in one form or another. While it's not the wild westward journey along Route 66 in an ancient ass convertible that screams "American Dream," I think that we came to a pretty awesome facsimile.

May 3rd, EK and I are flying out to Denver, where we're going to rent ourselves a Prius (not exactly a '69 Caddy), and hit the road. So far, we know we're hitting Salt Lake City for a night and San Francisco for a few days. Afterward it's the coastal highway down to Monteray Bay for a night, and then San Luis Obispo for two nights before we scoot down to Los Angeles. Las Vegas is next on the itinerary before we hit Flagstaff and two days in the Grand Canyon/Sedona region. Glenwood Springs and Boulder are our last stops before we wrap everything up and catch our flight from Denver back to Atlanta on the 17th.

It's two weeks and a car and some incredible scenery. Part of me is insanely nervous, mostly I'm insanely excited. To be able to do this is a dream come true for me, even if I did work myself sick to be able to afford it. There's something about this whole concept to me that's exhilarating, like it carries this inexplicable weight and importance. Like it's going to change my life somehow.

I'm going to miss a lot while I'm gone. Primarily my man, my cat. Also, some awesome parties and the retirement of a very important teacher in my life.

I'm terrified. But I think it's going to be worth it.