Last week Chris and I drove up to Hot Springs, Arkansas to spend a few days at a house on Lake Hamilton with my parents, brother, sister-in-law, and their kids. It was a relaxing trip, not filled with going hither and tither but for the most part spent lounging inside in the ‘cabiny’ living room or in the slightly more formal and spacious adjacent living area that had near floor-to-ceiling windows, or on the deck outside. More of those photos later.
I sat a lot in the reclining chair looking out at the porch as you see here, flipping through magazines, watching whatever was on tv (Food Network or kid tv), watching the my niece and nephew play and fight and be goofballs, and just enjoying myself.
I also turned 33 while we were away. It is only just starting to bother me. 30 was easy, that was perhaps because I was backpacking on the Appalachian Trail and got to spend it in Vermont. And then I spent part of 31 telling people I was 32 and now here I am 33. 33 is just so close to 35 which is that point in which you are running full speed into 40. I know, numbers don’t mean much, but some years they do. I didn’t care for 28.
I’m definitely at a stage in which I feel like when I see a woman with kids I assume she’s much older than me when in reality she’s likely my age if not younger—-hell, she could be 23 for all I know. In essence, my brain is functioning as if I’m looking out from 20 and into the years ahead of me but I’m actually at 33 looking out and I can’t seem to grasp that yet.
Anyway, before I ramble on too deeply there…
Lots to catch up on here with writing. I got a new laptop for my birthday which means my old one is now the assigned write your damn book, Misti laptop in which I can leave it in my studio to write my Florida Trail book. It’s amazing the kinds of mental blocks we creatives can put up when trying to work on something and this book has endless mental blocks.
What’s going on in your neck of the woods?