Opinion: Sad goodbye, but time for me to fly


Friends, this month marks my 17th anniversary of writing for Current. Seventeenth! That’s approximately 850 weekly columns sharing my sometimes crazy, often mundane life in suburban Indiana. But an exciting opportunity has developed, and I’ve made the decision to take a break. Alas, this is farewell, at least for now.

In February of 2023, my husband Doo and I listened to a podcast about a young couple who had quit their jobs and traveled for one year. Within 10 minutes, we had hit pause and were seriously discussing doing the same. It was crazy, sure, but we figured there’d never be a better time. So, we pulled the trigger. We leave July 1 for Australia! Then, it’s Indonesia in August, and after that, who knows? Apart from a few bucket list countries, we’ll see where the cheap flights and warm weather takes us.

It won’t be all play. Doo will be digital nomad-ing, I’ll be taking online classes, and we hope to take advantage of work exchanges to stay on budget. But I will not be writing columns. Although I love the process, I don’t want the responsibility. The only thing I want to think about is whether Mai Tais are appropriate before noon.

So, thank you. Thank you for allowing me to vent about Doo, my kids, mean moms, annoying pets, PTO fundraisers, diaper debacles, Scroogey librarians, the perils of competitive dance, moving, sisterhood, road trips gone array, 2020, incontinence, my ghostly complexion, tinsel wars, terrible drivers who don’t understand zipper merges, parenting woes, and, of course, hillbilly shenanigans involving attic racoons.

It’s been a pleasure, and more importantly, an honor.

Peace out.