Flying Solo

Courtesy of Jeanie Tomanek

If only I could taste my trepidation,

bend my boredom,

love my loneliness -

I might then feel the freedom of flying solo

through this vast, fast world...

The essence of this little lament came to me when I was flying home to Aussie recently - a mere three hours in the air. And it has returned to me now with my husband and trusty confidant a mere three days away on a work conference (also in Aussie). 

As tempting as it is to blame that bleak if beautiful desert continent for my lame lamentations, I believe it might rather have something to do with the book I am currently battling (yesterday referred to here with nail-biting reference to my leaf-blowing neighbour). 

So if these somewhat regrettable expressions of woe seem at all pathetic to you, dear and valued reader, please understand that I cannot help myself, though I try, and that once done with that bruising book - which happens to have more than a little bit to do with the perils and possibilities of flying solo - I hope to be a much changed woman, better able to fly my own kite in the sturdy fashion this woman seems to be managing it.