Just finally read the 12 page emailed journal-type recounting of my nephew's wild experiences in Barcelona. He's been over there teaching English to 10-year-olds and adventuring day and night. Even though it took me more than a month to get around to reading it, he continues to impress me in every way. He's having an incredible time over there... and I can't help but be jealous.

I hate that I missed out on that type of experience. Despite all my years traveling and living on the road, I've never been abroad, and I've always wanted to desperately.

Am I happy with a provincial life because I'm a simple person, or am I telling myself I'm happy with it because I feel I have no other choice?