Recently on the radio the hosts were talking about the mid-life crisis. They said that the populace at large tends to pressure others to try new experiences, but when they do then they're made fun of for having a mid-life crisis. I heard this discussion after we'd arrived back from our most recent trip out to west Texas ... *cough* the trip where Chris interviewed for a few jobs out there and was basically guaranteed one at a school ... *cough* and the trip where we'd gone around looking at houses in Marfa. I guess you could say that, at the tender age of 26, we've already had our mid-life crises and chosen to forsake Dallas for the clear air and open skies of west TX. That either means we'll both be dead by 52 or we won't be struck by the meaninglessness of our lives when we're in our forties.
We made up our minds throw in the towel in Dallas when we went out to Marfa for our anniversary. It's hard not to like the perfect weather, the mountains, the gobs of art--not that those things can cause a person to forsake all they know and relocate to what I'm affectionately dubbing "Middle-of-Nowhere, TX". I think you have to want something more to make the move we're about to make. Some people can live and die happily in Dallas, but we're sick of the isolation (yep, you can be isolated in a city and not in a town of 2000 people) and the traffic and the shallowness and the humidity--oh, the humidity!! Okay, we're really moving for the weather--who am I kidding?
Chris has obtained a teaching job and an apartment for us--now we just have to get rid of a lot of our stuff and get it packed up. After we return home from Maine next week (lotta vacation goin' on) we'll begin the serious business of starting a new life. And the Mac's working again, so we can take it with us instead of having it humanely put down and keeping its ashes on the mantle by Trent's. Westest of all West Texaseseses, here we come!