Why isn't there anything to do on Sunday evenings, and why does my desperation to get out for a while peak at 5:00 on Sundays? You'd think people would be living it up, trying not to think about the work week ahead, but I suppose most people need rest and regeneration. The problem is I'm feeling rested by Sunday evenings (I can't do anything Friday nights). Of course, chanting, "I'm bored I'm bored I'm bored" tends to drag everyone else down with me. There's always Delilah to accompany a drive out on weirdly abandoned roads, but I'm ashamed to admit the program annoys me despite the music. I don't know if it's the psychoanalysis or the sweetness of her voice, but I had much more fun in a small town in which people dedicated "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" to one another than Bette Midler tunes. What is it exactly that happens Sunday nights? It's like the aftermath of a natural disaster. Sports, some television show? I don't watch either. At least when we were in the mountains we could go for a scenic drive, weather depending. Or on long summer days, take the kids down to play in the river. I was content to sit among the trees while they played.
There's a diner further in the mountains with great pies. We once visited two days in a row, ordering slices of chocolate pie for my son's birthday. I loved it out there, even though we saw bears cross trails where we had gone earlier in the day, even though I lost my wallet horseback riding (verboten for me, yes), even though my son fell into freezing and fast but fortunately low water. That's the kind of place I'd like to visit tonight--a short trail, deer standing at the bridge, time to contemplate. Time for discussion over veggies and hummus made with peanut butter (tahini in the mountains? forget it). No one has to lose their wallet or fall in the water.
I want to plan a 2-3 week camping trip in the mountains this summer. We have a good air mattress. It's the car travel that would kill me more than anything. The last time we drove for a couple of days of 7 to 14 hours, I would hardly let my husband stop. Prolonging the ordeal to stretch was just making things worse. I don't know what I'm thinking, but I just miss going out the door and up the mountain for the morning if I liked, with my only responsibility to pick the kids up from school at 3. My pain level was so high when I did hike, though, that I couldn't do so as regularly as I would have liked. I want to be back in nature, really in nature. I like to wake to stars so countless my heart can't take them all in. How all this would work I don't know. I can't even figure out how I can manage a day at an art festival or similar outings soon. And I can't think if I have surgery this is a particularly good idea. But sometimes the best ideas are the worst ideas, or the ones that would most lighten the heart.
My daughter's teary tonight because her frog has a large tumor on the side of its face and probably isn't going to do well. I hate to see it have a prolonged illness.