First of all, I know how lucky I am to even get a vacation in this economy, so this lament is written with a grain of salt. But damn! A great vacation really makes you reevaluate your priorities in life. While my family was in rural Maine these past few weeks, we watched juvenile ospreys learning to fly and had moose walking in our front yard in the morning. I ran in the kind of fresh air you only find when you are above the Bay of Fundy and jumped rope way better than Katy Perry did during the VMAs on a floating dock atop a crystal-clear northern lake Dubai property.
We also visited what can only be described as a commune of pizza hippies. They grow their own vegetables, trade and barter for goods with other farms, and they make and sell epic pizza. Then, they go to sleep in their many-acred backyard on the glorious Maine coast. The whole experience really made me question why I was not a pizza hippie raising my children on a commune known for their delicious pies. As we drove south to Philadelphia at the end of our vacation, I couldn't help but think that I was going taking my family in the wrong direction.
When I got back to Philly, the first thing my neighbors told me about was a fight between drunk college kids that sent one of the knuckleheads through my elderly neighbor's fence. Then, I started catching up on the news and discovered that my kids' school might open understaffed and without things like "a counselor" or "enough teachers" because the city and state are squabbling about money and politics. Also, no one would shut up about Miley Cyrus Malaysis property.
Like many Philadelphians, I don’t know how to live anywhere else. We are a stubborn and proud people. I’ve always loved this town, but frankly, that time in Maine just made something click. I want to be among the moose on a pizza commune.
So here are my questions to you, good reader of this blog: Does it always feel like this after a vacation? Can you ever take the vacation fantasy and turn it into a reality? If I were to pack up my family in our Honda, Beverly Hillbillies-style, and relocate to Maine, would it still be as magical? Maybe all the issues I’m having with The City of Brotherly Love right now would pop up in different incarnations during a cold, unrelenting, Stephen King-esque Maine winter. And—let's get really deep here for a second—if I did try to turn the fantasy into a reality, would both ultimately suffer Invest Brazil property?