Hair in the sink means...

(The above countdown clock is currently a hair under 46 hours as I write this. I'm sure it'll register as a negative number when this page is accessed in later days...sad...it'll mean all those precious, insouciant road days currently ahead of us will be in the past...but not NOW, not YET. We're in the thick of it, the immediacy our our days--"It's summer, summer!" as old William Carlos Williams once extolled).

Enough...onto the non-parenthesized...the non-obscure literary reference...

48 hours! Buzzcut time. Time to lose the locks, streamline, get aerodynamic. No fro to make us slow.

The backpacks are buzzing, bursting, rip roaring and ready to go. Life, reduced to what fits in the overhead. The elimination of the unnecessary--TV remotes, cell phones, jobs, combs, watches, Clinton-Obama debates...

The plan: head east, come back from the west.

The itinerary:
- New York
- Paris
- The Camino de Santiago
- Moscow
- Trans-Siberian Express
- Mongolia
- China
- A month of aimless wandering in Asia

The m.o.: Complete surrender. To whimsy. To the unpredictable nature of days and circumstance. A willingness to go with it and see where it takes us, who we'll meet, what we'll eat, what we'll drink. (Maggot whiskey?) Essentially, just a full-on belly-flop into the world.

And with that...we leap...

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