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 |  My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon. |
| PROMPT July 13th Write about your favorite summer activity. Happy Monday the 13th! For some reason, this is more acceptable and less ominous than a Friday the 13th. Is this because it's the beginning of a fresh week and not the tail end of a tired week? So, yes it is officially summer. All the signs abound. The snow and ice have been banished. The Canada Geese have returned, honking and practising their water landings. Voracious bloodthirsty insects swarm. Jewelled butterflies and iridescent dragon flies flitter and hover. Long before the sun streaks the sky, squawking birds air their grievances. From their leafy posts, squirrels chitter. Sleek, round groundhogs waddle in the dew-sprinkled grass. Calm, mirror-like lakes glisten. And annoying, blaring, spewing road construction hinders vehicle travel. Most of my non-winter / summer revolves around camping at my seasonal site. Perhaps the canoe- portaging backpackers will sniff and point out that technically I am 'glamping.' I do not sense or encourage any glamour whatsoever, but I will concede that I sleep well above the hard ground in a bed with a mattress that is placed within its own separate room in a trailer. There are no sequins, or feather boas, or pink anything. I do not employ a staff to cater to my every whim. Imagine camping with a butler, a maid, and a chef now that would be glamping! And if it rains as indeed it shall, I stay dry in my shelter with a kitchen and a bathroom. Yep, I do not stumble down a shadowed, rocky path in search of a 'relief station' aka an 'outhouse.' Okay, I enjoy a level of camping above basic, but not extravagant. I will admit that camping with a ready, steady supply of hot water is luxurious. Sure, I could shower, or wash my hands in cold water, shudder, shudder, but why would I? That would be barbaric. That would be classed as 'roughing it' and why would I choose to do that? If I feel the urge to shock my system, I jump in the nearby freshwater lake where I can experience a full spa experience with skin-sloughing sand and a clay facial mask. Throw in the excitement of something tickling your unsuspecting bare feet and you have a cardio workout as well. I enjoy my poor man's or poor woman's cottage. It is my retreat, my summer oasis. I unplug and adopt a slower pace. Meals are never complicated. Most are cooked, sometimes charred, on the barbecue. I choose to relax on the deck with my feet propped up on an ottoman, ( yes, that's correct, even camping I use an ottoman), and my nose buried in a page-turner of a book. Fun times are shared via campfires. There's just something primal, satisfying about burning wood outdoors. You haven't lived until you are gasping and weeping because of cloying wood smoke. Anyone with a sniffer recognizes that odour of eau de campfire. The best stories dance with the flames and all dispersions dissipate with the smoke. Laughing to the backdrop of crackling and snapping warms the soul. Embers and eyes both reflect the glow. Camping has been my summer tradition since I first learned to walk. I cannot fathom a summer without it. |
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