I don’t know how other people’s lives work, but in my time on the planet I’ve noticed just about any idea I have can quickly become the initiating incident that starts one domino hurling into the next.

It’s not unlike all those staggering lists of begets in the book of Numbers. Maybe that’s when all this started…when my Dad paid my ten-year old self a silver dollar to memorize all the books of the Bible.

In today’s case, the begetting cascade began innocently enough. I was planning my trip to Oaxaca for the writer’s residency.

I was originally going for the first two weeks of October. It seemed like a good plan. Kevin is usually hunting (with apologies to all vegetarians) at the beginning of October. Wouldn’t it make sense if we were away at the same time? The residency weeks all start on Sundays, so I’d fly out September 30 and be back two weeks later. Easy-Peasy.

Kevin supported my plan and then casually mentioned that he planned on another trip on that third week of October as well. Why don’t I stay down there for three weeks?  I was sure, pretty sure, that he wasn’t just trying to make me go away. Besides, think of all the writing I’d get done.

I was secretly, and maybe not-so-secretly, well, perhaps even a bit loudly, thrilled to have the extra time.

I wrote my friend, fellow travel writer and Mexican-flight-expert, Michele Peterson to ask her advice about flights.  She wrote back, “Hey, it’s a short jaunt to my condo in Puerto Escondido & I’m going to be there. Why don’t you come visit me before or after Oaxaca?”

Well. Now. Let’s see. We’re now up to three weeks at the residency and then perhaps a few days with Michele? Starting to look like just under a month to me.

This morning I received another email from Michele. “Make sure you stick around long enough for all the great stuff leading up to Day of the Dead.”

I don’t have a huge bucket list. Mostly, it just says, “Do & See Everything.”

That being said, I’ve wanted to experience the Day of the Dead in Mexico for as long as I can remember.

Looks like the initiating incident of the writer’s residency has done some serious begetting. You just can’t leave two thoughts alone in this brain of mine without them getting up to something.

And they say rabbits are prolific.