If you could live anywhere, but it has to be a place you've never been...where'd you go?

Assuming, of course, that money is no object, because, after all, aren't we dealing in the wonders of idealism here?

We are. This is supposed to be making me write. Not bogging me down with pesky realities like trying to find a job.

Strangely, knowing the way my noggin works, however, I don't think language would ever be an issue for me. It might be for my husOtter, just because he's one of those kinds of men that read Klingon and understand 42 different dialects.

But can't utter a single word. That would be okay, in all actuality, we'd survive, but I might have to do all the talking if a ninja attack would arrive, ya know?

That being the case, of course I'd live wherever there is a Disney, afterall. California would be my first choice, but, yes, I've been there and I already have a ton of friends. It is so much like my previous home in Colorado that transitioning SoCal would be a breeze.

But what about not having Disney?

Now we're talking. Before the silence hits, I will say one location of one particular Disney Park would draw me to it like no other.

Paris. I, as a young boy, learned sign and, since it was based on French, took a shine to it as early as fifth grade. As I grew up, I learned this was something called a francophone. Some really interested in France and the French language. Had a real knack for it then. In fact, after doing one of those really awesome and relaxing past life regressions, I noticed a draw to the Deep South, where I live, sorta, today.

Could I have been a Cajun? Could explain a few things.

But Paris, the home of writers, painters, credos, and dreams calls to me, even this late in my life. Grant you, I've heard of Paris Syndrome, where Japanese tourists arrive and are completely dissatisfied with their French experience to the point of severe depression-this could still happen, I'm sure. Even if I don't get to that Disney park just beyond in the 'burbs, to live in a flat and have cafes and health care and food, I'd be good.

There's a Disney there too.

I'd be more than willing to make a go at Shanghai or Hong Kong, for sure, heck, even Tokyo. Their chorus of voices is loud, to be sure, but the French take the proverbial cake.

However, let's go one better. I mentioned it as a home to the literary elites, but what about across the Chunnel? I mean, London? Again, I'm picking cities, but, in the end, I admit, I like what cities offer, but decry them for what they can't maintain for me.

My dogs.

But London might even do me one better-with showcases of writers and the arts that I can also heed. Grant you, there's is a tea cup to my French roast, and I get that and doubt I'd make the switch. However, everything else is up for grabs.

Again, like Paris, I'd love a flat of some sort, with a foyer where I could hang my bicycle and views of something.

See? Dreams.

London, Paris. I'm like everyone else.

But not in this last part. Those two cities don't offer something that I also need.

Temperature.

I'm a warm weather person. It's just the way I am. London's got delicious fogs to write about henchmen in; Paris has spring evenings that are mild and perfect for wine and stargazing over car horns.

I joke, frequently, especially during this recent cold snap, about moving to Cuba, the US Virgin Islands and the like.

Key West calls me.

A haven for people like myself and warm with tiny houses-I know I'd fall in love with it. Yes, the most recent Irma hurricane slapped the city senseless, and who knows if it'll ever recover.

But we're talking ideals, remember? Like I could ever afford to live there. Of have my family fly in from the mainland.

Still, these are my answers.