I realized yesterday that the unremitting focus on finding another job and launching my escape from Memphis has had yet another unexpected victim. This is usually at this time of year when I’m in the final stages of plotting a trip that will take me somewhere with warm sea breezes, palm trees, and a rum economy. With the unknown costs of a long-hoped for move to consider and the more recent threat of a government shut down, it’s probably for the best that I overlooked this annual ritual. Still, though, there’s something about those trips that’s good for the soul. Or maybe it’s just the breakfast mimosas on the beach, rum punch and bushwhackers on the pool deck in the afternoon, and a bottle (or two or three) of good wine at dinner that helps slow the brain down a bit and lets the relaxation set in.

It’s too late for this winter, but here’s hoping that the six directions I’m going in currently will settle themselves into a new normal by this point next year and I’ll get my toes in the sand sooner rather than later. In the meantime, I still have an escape left to plan… and maybe I can sneak away for a long weekend in Vegas. It’s not exactly relaxing, but it’s always fun.