I’ve been trying to post every day lately, kind of like my own version of “Morning Pages” (except not in the morning, generally). Morning Pages is a reference to a book called The Artist’s Way, which suggests writing every morning, to help clear and organize your mind.
I missed this weekend, however. Such is the way of life some days. I’ll just have to try harder.
This weekend was interesting. On Friday night, I got a call from Joe, inquiring as to whether or not I would be interested in attending a bachelor party the following evening (Saturday) in scenic Enosburg Falls, Vermont. As my brother already pointed out, Enosburg is way up in the northwestern portion of Vermont, near the Canadian border. It is absolutely stunning up there, alive and vibrant in a way that can’t really be described, only experienced. So, after checking with my wife, I said “Sure!”
I then spent most of Saturday morning picking strawberries, which entailed getting up at around 6:30, driving to a patch, and picking berries for about an hour. Your back may be sore afterword, but trust me, tasting berries pulled directly from the plant and eaten in the morning sun makes it ALL WORTH IT. After getting home, I caught up on some of the forums I read, sorted emails and files for archiving, and mostly just sat on my ass. I finally did head out, though, around 5. That put me up in Enosburg shortly before 8, including a brief stop to pick up Uri.
Good times were had by all, and we managed to get the groom thoroughly trashed (the order of the evening). Large bonfires, good conversation and merriment… that’s the way it should be.
The next morning, I made it to Uri’s house before deciding that I needed somewhat more sleep than the hour or so I’d had that night, on the ground, being eaten alive by mosquitos. I sat down on the couch and was dead to the world for about two hours, after which I continued on my journey home.
The weather had broken, and it was no longer the 103 it had been earlier in the week… instead it was a lovely 85, light (but not non-existant) humidity, sun, and a slight breeze. This is a great way to drive home. I had the music turned to far too loud, and the windows open, enjoying the visceral experience of the wind on my face and my hair whipping around atop my head.
When I finally got home, I had some scrumptious strawberry pie that Mickey had made while I was gone, curled up on the couch with her, and watched cheesy teen movies for the rest of the evening.