Saturday, August 27, 2011

Illusions give me privacy

Everyone thinks I'm good, I'm cured, I'm OK, I'm safe, danger passed. I'm chipper, social, reasonably energetic and productive.

I'm never OK. Not even close.

Stay tuned.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Home alone

The second week of my vacation is here. Before it got here, I planned a long list of activities related to overall housework and household organization. Sometime over the weekend, I decided I wasn't going to do any of those things. It's my vacation, and I usually spend too much of my down time trying to make up for my overall disinterest in all things domestic.

There are plenty of things I could do that are supposed to be enjoyable. I could read any of the dozens of books I haven't been able to get to. I could make jewelry. Bake. Go to a museum. Write (that one's a bit of a struggle). Go hiking. Ride my bike. Work out. Go to a movie. Those sorts of things.

It's not a lack of options that is bothering me. It's the fact that no matter how I spend my time this week, I will be spending it alone.

It gets old. It is a relentless daily reminder that the only person willing to spend time with me lives a couple of states away (and I'm sure she reached her exposure limit last week).

I'm not eager to go back to work. I strive to relax and enjoy these schedule-free days that are open from end to end. Eventually, though, being so isolated just doesn't feel very good. No, not at all.

Postcard from here. Always from here.

Summer is the best time of year. The weather is agreeable, the days are longer, and there's more to do. This means I tend to ruminate less and accomplish more. The burdens that seem intolerable in the cold, gray days of winter seem much more manageable in summer's sunlight.

I'm deep in the Southwest U.S. at the moment, and the heat doesn't bother me. Frankly, it's not significantly cooler back home. The change of scenery shifts my mood ever so slightly to a better setting. The Sonoran Desert agrees with me.

Places have been on my mind a lot lately. Every year, when it's time for vacation once again, I know that Frank will opt to not participate (he prefers to dedicate his vacation days to home improvement). This bothers me tremendously. I could tavel alone, but I simply don't want to. In lieu of adventure travel, I visit people I know. There's nothing wrong with that, but at some point, I'd like to stop depending on friends and family to help me have vacations.

My whole life, I believed that I would eventually get out and see the world. Granted, I got off to a good start in my teens and I've done a fair amount of domestic travel, but a vacation spent traveling somewhere new, a real adventure, hasn't been on the agenda in decades. My passport expired in 1981 and I've never had any legitimate need to renew it.

My chances seem to be slipping away, eroding as time passes. I am 50 years old. I figure I have twenty good years left, at most, to travel comfortably and in good health. The last twenty years have passed quickly, and I now I fear that the next twenty will find me having covered no ground at all in the end.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

The world is full of cruel ironies

May is having a very, very bad morning.

Monday, August 1, 2011