Tomorrow is the day.
Flight scheduled. Clothes packed. Money crotched.
I want the big family thing go’in on; I want Southern ribs; I want Jack Daniels; I want a Chicago hotdog; I want kalochkies; I want Bears football; I want a white Christmas; I want a warm golf day; I want to fit into the 34s Levi’s; I want to mistakenly speak Czech to Americans; I want Americans to speak proper English; I want to play tennis; I want to pick off cracklin turkey skin with Julie; I want to laugh my head off with Jennifer & Matt; I want to watch Dad fall asleep in the easy chair; I want see Mom smile when she sees my eyes as I bite into her rollotten (sic); I want Les to laugh like the big jolley boy he is; I want the “kids” to gather together and be terribly cool; I want to take pictures; I want to feed the dogs tabel scraps; I want to sit at a bar in three states; I want to see an aligator; I want to win money off Mike playing pool; I want to play Ben in chess; I want Andrea to show me her newest model pose that says “pay me $10,000 a day to do this”; I want to write emails to my friend Asia while she’s in Poland; I want to shoot a hole-in-one; I want to ski down a Utah shoot with powder breaking at my hips; I want to drink champagne to that powder run with my bro at the end of the day; I want Mikayla to read Shakespeare; I want Meg to read Shakespeare; I want to play Guitar Hero with Dylan; I want to fix Morrocan chicken for 13 people; I want to pee on a tree; I want to read a book; I want to write something good – at least one beautiful sentence each day that I’m there; I want to play poker; I want to sing Christmas carols even though I’m not religious; I want to play pool; I want to get a full workout every other day; I want to weigh the same on the last day as I did on the first day (note: must step on scale); I want to have a campfire and roast potatoes; I want to walk in the pine forests. I don’t want to teach English for a couple weeks.
But I won’t be too picky.