doodledee

Don't these short post-holiday weeks seem soooo long? No, no they don't. They fly by. Seriously, it seems like it was only 20 minutes ago that I was sitting on a lakeside deck, chewing thru my enormous reading backlog like an angry termite. The kids in bed, an epic sunset on the horizon, no wind, no mosquitoes, loons singing and ducks quacking, my fingers blackening with newspaper ink, my lungs filling with chilly air that smelled of pine and wet sand and smoke from a nearby campfire. There's no conversation, there's nothing to say. And really, that's pretty much the whole crazygreat - and admittedly cliché - North Country bit right there.

Daytime brings pontoon rides and sandcastles and some light fishing and a 90 minute kayak trip off to the lonely part of the lake to get my introspective Thoreau on and a paddle home and a ham sandwich and glass of water from the local spring and then it's time to scrub the winter grime off the sailboat. And then do it all again.

But decompression can be stressful and like 48 hours later I'm of course going crazy and I'm back in my car headed home a day before the rest of the family so I can catch up on chores and the music is cranked-up to stun and I'm coasting effortlessly in and out of the left lane to pass slow moving traffic and here's an 18 minute Reba and it's dark out and the truck in front of me has two bikes on a trailer and the wheels are spinning and the reflectors are making this crazy light show and I was about 2 glowsticks short of a war.

And I don't remember leaving the kitchen this messy. Sigh.

At least I got the tomato plants in.