house-bound no longer

I’m going to visit Kim in Philly next week! This is getting out of the house with a vengeance.

I was thinking about it and I realized I’ve only ever flown in and out of Tacoma on my own. Imagine that. All those years when I thought I would grow up to be an intrepid, solitary traveler, roaming the globe in a dusty coat and indifferent hair and only pausing occasionally to send some curious shrunken head home to my doting ‘rents; yet here I am, 30 years old, and my most exotic solo trip has been to SeaTac and back. I don’t know how far a trip to Philadelphia will go to correct this tendency, especially with a friend waiting at the other end, but it’s a start, anyway. Maybe after this I’ll finally have the nerve to take that Paris trip on my own.

Meanwhile, Kim and I have big, adventurous plans involving coffee shops, thesis writing and probably a lot of tense swearing at our thesis writing. (I intend to perform all actions in the first person plural while I’m there. For helpfulness.) I’ll keep my eyes peeled for shrunken heads, or at least for all representations of pigs that the neighborhood has to offer.