Off I go!

And so . . . Paris! The right decision. When is Paris anything other than the right decision, I’d like to know?

After six months of a determined and more than annoying rash all over my body and then, of late, being besieged with concerns about my sister’s health, with help from a friend we organized what we could and, as planned, I left the country. Good move, Stranahan!

Thank God that the contact allergy dermatitis that I have been chasing around for all these months seemed to have subsided a few weeks before I left—no more Jo Malone in my life! Nonetheless, I traveled with more potions than you can imagine in order to keep my unreliable skin under control.

Paris healed me: Paris, and friends from the UK, who so kindly met me there. We ate too much, laughed and talked about life in St Mawes, Cornwall.  We walked and walked, our minds and hearts enlivened by one of the most beautiful cities in the world: the zing of the traffic, the casual chic of the Parisiennes, the marvelous paintings and buildings and parks. My eldest son, our wonderful guide and translator, remained cheerful and undaunted by his constant surround of females of a certain age.

 Just a week: just what I needed. On the way home on the plane I thought about how cleared, cleaned and refreshed I felt. I had no idea how deeply grooved into sameness I had become. There is another world besides Southport, CT! There is another world besides allergy appointments. (Mind you, I am constantly aware of how lucky I am that my disability of the moment is only an allergy.) There is another world besides the I 95 corridor. Hurrah!

My back was itchy against the fabric of the seat in the plane and I didn’t give a damn.  

Thinking about how liberated I felt, I became stunningly conscious of the human need for a change of scene. It doesn’t have to be Paris. There are lovely old villages in Connecticut: Mystic, Washington, Cornwall. Heck, a day in New York at MoMA, Bergdorf’s, or to see a play will help. Anything that breaks our patterns—even if they are worthy patterns—is, I am convinced, good for our health. Beware of ruts, routines that bind us.  No doctor would support this theory, but I think our dedication to sameness produces a stodgy blood flow that inhibits creativity and joy.

I’ve read that some businesses, seriously believing in R and R-- Google, I think, is one-- insist and perhaps even pay for their employees to take holidays. That being so, I must not be all wet on this.

 You don’t have to be working to get into a rut. Fully retired, I was in one. So, whatever your age and health and finances will allow, find somewhere new to visit or re- visit an old favorite. Catapult yourself out of your comfort zone. Wake up to new life. Recreation means re-creation.  

Check it out; test the theory. See if I am right or just a bit crazy. (Actually, I’ll happily settle for the latter.)