It was 95F today. That's just a bit too hot to stand at the fence and chat. Come on in the house and let's have some Iced Tea.
I have worked very hard this week. And yes, it is only Wednesday! But never mind because come Thursday I'm taking a day out to go get my haircut, go to Walmart and maybe Lowe's and out to eat. That will be my day to enjoy. I think it's very important when you've worked hard to take time out to do things that are fun and pleasurable, too. I won't be work free that day. There are always things in a house to do and I find I prefer to have them done.
I'm keen to do this on Thursday because Friday I want to get all the weekend things done, plan meals, prep, etc. I am keeping the three from across the field that afternoon and evening because it is Sam's birthday and that is part of my gift to him. I've no idea what the rest of his gift will be.
I went over my goals for the month on Tuesday and was so happy to find that I am doing pretty good. The things that haven't been done mostly involve shopping first and I've been nowhere to shop except the grocery store. They had ferns at Aldi but those were the most pitiful specimens I've seen. They looked a good deal like mine that I wintered over and then waited for them to regrow. So I skipped those that day and have been nowhere since.
I don't know what it is about middle of a month but I start to think about what I'd like to accomplish the next month along about the 15th...Sort of the way I start thinking of the New Year in November. In years past I've taken a break come July financially and blog-wise. I don't know that I'm ready for a blog break just yet. That might wait until August or might not happen at all. I've really enjoyed my writing of late and don't feel I'm struggling with it as I do at times. I want to ride the wave while it's happening. Those dry spells always do return and I'll know then that it's time to take a break.
I bought a new book this past week, my second choice for June reading: The Supper of the Lamb, A Culinary Reflection by Robert Farrar Capon. The book has been recently republished and has no less than two introductions and two prefaces. It is a cookbook but it's really based upon one recipe with variations and commentary and a few spiritual lessons tossed in for good seasoning and then at the very end of the book are a lot of recipes for various things.
I'm only on Chapter One but I'm really enjoying the book so far. If you like to read cookbooks, this one is worth reading.
Of course, I'm reading another book at the same time. I take a bit of this one and then put it down and take a bit of the other. Elizabeth Cadell's The Marrying Kind. Cadell began her writing career in the 1940's. I discovered her in the public library and don't know why I haven't collected more of her work. She also wrote under the name Harriet Ainsworth and it appears that a spate of re-published books are available on Amazon as with a lot of the favored authors. I shall have to look into ordering more of her books. I've really only just started this one as well, though I'm a little further along than with the cookbook I mentioned above.
The other night, John and I were talking about a trip we took to the mountains about 6 years ago. He remembers the whole thing fondly. He brings it up periodically as the 'best time we've ever had.' I look at him and wonder what vacation he went on.
I remember...how horribly miserable I was. The place was dark as hades with the lowest wattage LED bulbs known to man to light the inside. I went out on the sunny end of the back porch and still had to have a light on to see the printed page before my eyes. There was no internet so we couldn't look up what we might do in the area. So we sat indoors in the dark or outdoors in the dark and John spent most of those two periods of time either watching political news programs or snoozing. When we did finally make it to town, everything was closed until the weekend and we were going home on Friday morning. We found a burger place and they made ordering a burger as difficult as possible. You had to go down lists of ingredients and circle what you wanted and then you were charged for each item even the condiments.
The creek side cabin wasn't creek side at all. I could almost hear the creek when the drives weren't being graded and the lawns weren't being mown or trees weren't being cut up for firewood and those noises went on from sun up until sun down quite literally. Making it down the steep muddy and rough path to the creek was an adventure but it was sliding back uphill that was beyond tedious. Once down at the creek there was no access so there was no wading.
What I remember that was nice: the bed was super comfortable and the kitchen while tiny was very efficient to work in. And the rental cabin was not that expensive but was nice if darker than doom and had the loveliest wood floors. But overall, I'd call that vacation almost as big a bust as the one we took to Helen where John was so miserably unhappy we went home on the morning of our second day. I had offered him his choice and he kept saying "You choose," so I did and then I discovered that he wanted to the beach the whole while...Sigh. So we went home, saving the rest of our money to put towards the beach vacation he really wanted though it was a year before we could go.
John and I had a really lovely vacation one year in Helen. We left after church on Sunday and came home again on Wednesday. The cabin was a gift to us from a reader who owned it and asked only that we pay the cleaning fees. Katie didn't want to miss school and refused to come with us. So this vacation was really a foretaste of our future. It was the first time John and I had ever been alone in our entire marriage for an extended period of time.
Oh how I fretted and worried about that trip! What if John didn't LIKE spending that much time alone with me? What if we had nothing to talk over? What if....? What if....?
The cabin was nice, and while not in a picturesque location it was quiet and well built. It had a big screened in back porch and huge fireplace and it was within two miles of Helen, which we liked to visit and walk around in. And all those fears I had about being alone with my husband were wasted worries. We had a marvelous time, talked and talked and talked from early morning until far into the night each night. We slept like logs with no noises about to disturb our rest. It was just lovely and proved to be a huge blessing to us both. It calmed a lot of my fears about what our marriage might be without children to occupy so much time and thought.
I was an adult before I ever went to the beach. I grew up with my family making twice a year treks into the mountains, travelling the Blue Ridge and Smokey Mountains, up and down from Georgia to Tennessee and into the Carolinas and back again, eating at roadside look-outs and driving miles and miles, winding steadily higher and getting longer and better views with each mountain we topped. That part of my childhood was memorable and pleasant though I will say that Daddy's idea of a good day was to get in the car at 7am and not stop until it was well past dark tended to take some of the fun out of it.
There were no bathroom breaks for us and it was only with huge reluctance he'd stop long enough to let Mama make sandwiches or grill burgers. Then we'd pile back in the car and drive some more. For Daddy, it was the number of miles covered each day that made the vacation. And because of his late night driving habit we stayed in some pretty crummy cabins and motels where the few vacancies were due to the late hour.
Daddy had a fear of drowning and was doubly afraid we children would drown. So we vacationed in the mountains well away from any but the shallowest rocky creeks where one was more in danger of spraining an ankle or getting a concussion from hitting the rocks. We didn't go to places with swimming pools either. Yet each vacation we went on Mama insisted we each pack a bathing suit. I don't know why...we NEVER got to put them on.
There are days when I allow myself to day dream of what I would do if I were all on my own, without anyone else's likes or dislikes to consider. Going to the mountains, riding along the Blue Ridge or Smokey Mountains...That's what I'd do. I wonder sometimes if I'll ever see the 'real' mountains again? I will share here that John, knowing I love them so, does put on an occasional travel vlog or documentary of trips others take along those old scenic roadways and I thoroughly enjoy them. But will I ever go again? I've no idea. It won't be a life long regret, but it is a regret. We make all sorts of compromises in a marriage. And for balance, I've seen the ocean in more seasons and all sorts of weather than I'd ever thought I might and the majesty of it is the same as those rolling mountain views.
John decided to mow the grass this afternoon so we can have a proper day free tomorrow. I've made big salads for our supper since he's unlikely to want a heavy cooked meal when he comes indoors. We were both working outdoors after lunch, he sharpening mower blades and me trimming limbs from the Faith Tree. I'd found the branches hanging so low, I couldn't see down to the driveway from the kitchen window. We don't have people coming and going but I do like to see if anyone does and I couldn't until they were right in our yard on the two occasions it's happened. I much prefer not to be in complete surprise that someone has arrived unexpectedly. I watered plants too. Even while I watered thunder rumbled but it was likely just heat causing it because the sun never stopped shining. I felt well drained by the time I'd been around the yard with the hose...and equally as drained looking at all the things I might/ought/want to do.
Well dears, it's not a long chat perhaps, but it's all I have in me for today. I'll talk to you all later!
4 comments:
Amy vacation anywhere is so hit or miss. It seems that there is so much that all has to come together that we have learned just to take it as it comes. Here at the lake house we just roll with it because we know we will be back again soon and the next time will be completely different. Our fees are less than $500 a year so we don't have cost hanging over our heads. Paying for accomodations is completely different. We adore the peace and view at Pisgah Inn on the parkway but the beds are as hard as concrete and one night there is enough. Last time we payed for an Airbnb in Florida it was in a retirement RV park and every morning at six some old geezer was standing outside our bedroom window shouting at his friend two streets over to find out what time they were playing shuffle board. One year we had a fabulous week in Helen but now it is so crowded we don't care to go there anymore even though it is a day trip from the lake. Tubing down the Chatahoochie was a blast when we were much younger. In the end we have come to the conclusion that we only enjoy getting away to what is familiar and where we know what to expect. Would I pay to rent the lake house? No. It is all mismatched furniture and castoffs from all the partners. But for us it is comfortable and how can we beat the cost for four weeks a year?
My Dad was just like yours on trips. It may have just been the times in which we grew up. We never stopped for the night. We drove straight through on every trip. If there was any sleep it was an hour or two at a rest stop. My grandfather was famous for sleeping flat on his back on a picnic table for a few hours.
Ah, childhood!
Your story about your different views of that vacation made me laugh. Was John still working then? I know my husband has told me he thinks about vacations differently now that he has retired. He owned his own business and was under a lot of stress when he worked, so any vacation that took him away from that was wonderful. A getaway with no internet, where he was free to nap and watch TV as much as he wanted was ideal to him, so maybe that is the perspective John had back then.
When I was a child every weekend was a mini vacation in the summer. My Dad who was a carpenter and woodworker built a 19 ft. cabin cruiser boat and we would trailer our boat about 1 1/2 hour north of where we lived in a suburb of St Louis and put the boat in the water and spend all day Saturday, night Saturday, and all day Sunday with a canvas to shade us up on the sandbar and we slept on the boat. My Mom loved to fish, so she fished part of the day and all night, I swam and explored the sandbar and took walks with our big collie who always came with us.
Sometimes friends showed up at the sandbar and there would be tall tales and a lot of times singing of old time songs like Meet Me in St Louis, etc. There were other kids and we all had fun swimming. Our Giant Collie was taught to stay within the anchor rope and a line my dad drew in the sand on the other sides. The Collie never crossed the lines. If I was sitting under the canvas shelter we made for our table and aluminum chairs the collie was always right with me. One time there was a man who had come to the sandbar alone. He had a creepy vibe to him. My Dad spoke to him and the man went on about his business. Our Collie did not like the man at all and kept his eyes on him anytime he was in view. I was a pre-teen, but looked older, by that time. Mom was over on the other side of the sandbar fishing and my Dad was in the water on the other side of the boat and the weird man didn't see him. All of a sudden my Giant Collie who had been lying in the shade right next to me jumped to his feet and was standing at attention with every hair up on his back. No tail wagging like normal. Here came that weird man off of his boat striding across the sand toward me. Lancelot the Collie wasn't letting that man past the anchor rope. Then, seeing no one in sight but me, the man was getting ready to step over the the anchor rope and Lancelot was walking in a down low attack position toward the man. My Dad came out of the water to the bow of the boat just about the time the man stepped all of the way over the rope, and just in time to see Lancelot with the hair on his back all raised up looking even bigger than the 110 1bs he was, start to launch himself toward that man, who by now was well over the anchor rope and stepping toward me. My Dad yelled at Lance to stop, luckily Lancelot listened and did not leap on the man. Lance was still standing there looking all puffed out and growling at the man with his fangs showing. My Dad told the man that our dog was told to stay on our side of the anchor line and the man should stay on his side for his own safety. Lancelot never acted like that before to any human. I don't know if the guy had a weird odor or Lance thought the man was coming toward me too fast or what, but my dog would have taken that man down to the ground that day, had my dad not intervened. Shortly after the incident, the man got on his boat and left.
My Collie, sir Lancelot, was such a gentle giant that he would lay on his side and have baby chicks walking all over him playing around in his fur, and would sleep with three cats and a big white rabbit all up against him for warmth in winter. He was such a sweet, gentle dog. Except when it came to that weird man. I think the weird man was up to no good, and Lancelot definitely thought he was a danger to me.
That was my most unusual summer vacation day.
Lana, I laughed but would have been hugely irritated at the neighbor in your Air BnB that yelled to the man two streets over. Ugh! I can see what you mean about the Lake house. I agree that it lessened my irritation over the cabin that it was so reasonably priced but still, darkness is not my ideal environment!
Cindi M., You may be right! John was working at the time so that was a complete change of pace for us and that might have been the appeal to him.
Susi, how lovely the boating sounds. I too had a gentle giant of a dog called Bear, a black Chow mix who was super protective of me and so tender with Katie and niece Ashley and often allowed kittens to crawl upon his back to sleep and he'd lie there until they woke on their own, never shook them off.
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