The Hillbilly Viking

As we have settled into the first week of our latest Portuguese odyssey, I have been hemming and hawing whether I was even going to blog this particular adventure (and if you’ve ever hemmed and/or hawed at my age, you know the fall risk). Since my entire schtick is Stranger-in-a-Strange-Land/fish-out-of-water observations, I didn’t feel like that tired trope had much to offer in what is basically a vacation do-over from just last year. My loyal readers (er, reader) deserve better. But then I thought of my CPA, the cost of the seaside hotel I’m typing this from, and the deductibility of this entire trip if I just publish a few words surrounded by banner ads that generate income I never actually see, and, well, sorry, dear readers (er, reader), but strap on the old feedbag for some re-heated, trope steak.

In all honesty, however, even though this trip is strikingly similar in geography and chronology to last year’s, the intent is decidedly different. Whereas last year was more travel-centric, this year is mainly due diligence. As many of you know, Patty and I are seriously considering a permanent move to Portugal, and this trip is the one where we sop up the final gravy and make our decision. We’ve already hired a lawyer, which is something I’ve never done on vacation before (well, there was that one time in Tijuana, but the lawyer was court appointed, and I swear that burro looked eighteen). We’ve scouted out apartmentos and calculated the Advil/glucosamine budget necessary for a third floor flat “without lift.” We’ve verbally assaulted the locals with our unintelligible (and most likely pornographic) pronunciations of their native tongue, and we have consumed A LOT of wine. OK, so that last bit is some of the re-run I alluded to previously, but every narrative needs continuity.

Why are we choosing to self-deport and become immigrants at the stage in our lives when most of our shit is figured out and our AARP membership is set to auto renewal? Well, as I type this entry, the apricot hued, shit stain of a president back home has decided that posting and un-posting (sorry/not sorry) a twisted, messianic misappropriation created by one of his juvenile, AI whisperers is a rational, presidential action. This is in the same week he’s picked a Twitter fight with the Pope, and it’s only Tuesday. Now I’m not Catholic, nor am I even Christian, so claiming this to be the straw that broke the camel’s back would be disingenuous on my part (and I’m pretty sure Fox News collects royalties for any form of mock outrage at this point). No, this isn’t the final straw. This is one straw in a seemingly endless mountain of bales, and I’m just so done with hay fever.

Stay tuned (sign up below, even). Less politics and more pictures with silly captions to follow.

I promise (and my word is as good as your president’s).

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