When you see this sign, know that you are well and truly in the middle of nowhere:
The helpful websites that I consulted about where to hike near Sandpoint Idaho with a dog did not mention that the 16 miles of Trestle Creek Road are unpaved, cling precariously to a sheer drop off for much of the time, are approximately 1.25 Subarus wide, and, while incredibly beautiful (wildflowers, trees, blahblahblah), are also so desperately remote that were there to be trouble of any sort (like running out of secret glove-compartment gin), you would disappear like the Donner Party. No head pills. Aunt Flo. And everywhere warnings about bears. I felt like a dripping roast on legs as I began the hike up on quavering legs. In the end it turned out all right. The lake was stupid but it was there, which meant that the hike was officially over. No moose. No bear. Yay.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? (Here's where I think this post is veering off course.....Yep.) This was my much-longed-for vacation and all I could do was sigh and trudge. I'm surprised that the boys didn't just abandon me by the side of the road, what with all the clutching, the bitching, the endless fussing with the air-conditioning and the stereo and the windows and the rules regarding the use of a backseat DS.
Am I too old to have fun? Has fun changed in the last ten years? Do I need to start shopping around for my retirement villa already? Or hook up with a group of similarly dumpy and morose middle-aged people who play whist? Must I learn to play whist, for the love of GOD? Will I ever again do more than wade thigh-high in mountain lakes while everyone else (including the dog) swims?
I've never been one of those very fun people: too shy, too self-conscious, too in love with books. Dancing is fun--as long as I'm doing it alone in my office. But I think I used to be in better practice: I knew what fun looked like, knew the appropriate dosage for my height and weight, etc. I think I am just not in the habit of having fun anymore. I feel stupid having fun.
Uh-oh, I feel one of those awful inspiring moments coming on. Dear God, am I about to embark on a Fun Project?
I think I am.
That'll be fun.
Off to, I don't know, braid some flowers in my hair or something.
(Every time I try to type "fun" into the Labels box, I keep getting "dream funeral." I think this project might be doomed. Or very weird.)