JT's TALES FROM THE TRAIL

Despite being thousands of miles away, the fair was exactly like I remembered it, the colors, smells, old-school games, and rides. Don't get me started on the hobby exhibit, which was the second-best thing we saw after the poultry barn.

I carried a simple house key on a string around my neck. I don’t remember walking my sister home from school, but maybe I did. I do remember the television shows we watched while waiting for mom to get home from work. 

Today while rambling I was feeling guilty for spending the entire day in bed yesterday watching romantic comedies I have seen before and eating - well everything. This got me thinking about indulgence which as it turns out can be a good thing.

Whatever you think of Mardi Gras, if you haven’t been there, you likely don’t understand. I’ve now experienced almost a dozen Mardi Gras celebrations and have never once seen bare boobs.

Until recently, I never could have imagined having this much leisure time. My life's pace is so much slower than it used to be. It happened gradually; until recently, I hadn't noticed this change.

When we drove by the museum with a lifesize recreation of the Titanic crashing into a lifesize iceberg, my colleague said, “I bet you didn’t know the actual Titanic is in Branson, Missouri.” I responded, “really?” For five minutes, I believed him, and ruthless teasing ensued.

I think the idea of midlife transformation breeds anxiety.  It makes me feel inadequate for admitting that the world may not be my oyster and guilty about my waning ambition.

When traveling to a point of interest in a foreign city, we walk, even if it takes hours and the route is uncomfortable. Most often, the walk is the point for us rather than the place. Stormy takes pride in never taking a cab and has pushed me to my breaking point on many occasions.

Despite my best efforts, I touched this manatee. A lot. I tried to swim gently away but repeatedly and accidentally kept touching it. Finally, I tried to stand up to walk away, but I slipped and fell and was horrified to find myself sitting on the manatee.

So much happens in this beautiful community we’ve created with all of you. But rambling is the center of it all. For us, rambling is rooted in our friendships and is more of a mindset than an activity.  

The crowd was visibly thrilled. Strangers were throwing up high fives, butts were dancing in seats, and standing bodies were swaying around the edges. Strangers were smiling at each other with looks of "can you believe this is finally happening." We cheered for the band and each other because we knew that this moment, in this time, was extraordinary.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to live with people who are culturally opposite in so many ways. Living in the south is smoothing my rough edges. I’ve learned to curb my cynicism about matters that are close to the heart.

The negative consequences of my internet addiction are becoming more obvious as I age. I am ever more fixated on dopamine hits of distraction & find it increasingly difficult to be mindful. So I've started to read again!

The ridge trail was longer than I thought, and eventually, I came to a trail sign with an actual map and found my way back down. When I passed a woman walking a dog, I felt the relief of being sure I wasn't sleeping on the mountain.

Tracy looked at me like I was off my rocker and said, "That's not a mermaid." I started arguing with her, and she said, "She has two legs and is wearing a mask and snorkel. And the large plaque in front of the statue says Woman Wearing a Wetsuit." 

I'm unsure where I thought up my wise tips for the first-time incarcerated, like "don't whistle," "don't be nice", "learn to swear," and the protocol for choosing a seat in the dining hall. It's okay to roll your eyes when you read it, and I hope it gives you a chuckle.

It was the straw that broke me, and I found myself having a panic attack in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve. The next day, my hubby phoned my mom and canceled Christmas. He told me that if I so much as stood up and got off the sofa to get someone a drink, he would lose his shit in a manner nobody would forget.

I’ve always thought that the fall would be a preferred time for a New Year to dawn in North America, while the world is awash in optimistic color and the kids are starting a new school year. Instead, the it arrives after weeks of sugar and booze-soaked gluttony and hyper-social angsty busyness.