I’m not apologizing for this:
The first version I ever heard was, I believe, Gloria Estefan.
My mood improved markedly on the way to Burfoot Park, a place I’d never been.
Driving somewhere new on a warm, sunny day has become a novelty.
I rolled along in a wide screen dream. It was almost like driving high except I wasn’t high at all. It just feels that good to drive when the sun kisses the treetops and you can see the water sparkle as you drive by the harbor.
A nice leisurely drive along Boston Harbor and a pleasant feeling of sleepiness.
I remembered not sleeping well, anxiety dreams like a dog having a bad dream and flicking his paw while he whimpers quietly. I don’t remember the dream, but doubtless its just hormone driven anxiety fucking with REM sleep and then waking me up too soon.
And so I was dazed, but on that widescreen lyrical drive it felt good.
Then I arrived at the park and I couldn’t believe my luck. It looked like a large Alaskan meadow. It needed only a towering mountain in the background to complete the picture.
Wide rolling grassy fields, daisies, clusters of little trees together and spruce trees every now and then, spaced far enough apart to bring me satisfaction.
It reminded me of footage from the famous 1967 Montery Pop Festival, except Washington instead of Cali.
I sat on a picnic bench under the shade of a tree and did my therapy appointment. As we talked, I watched bees land on little meadow flowers and move around, doing their work.
I found that I do trust him. cautiously.
Around 3:30 our chat ended. I passed by a skinny woman in her 50’s or 60’s reading quietly under another tree. I had an impulse to shout, “That’s the life, right there!”, but resisted in service of preserving her peace.
I strolled across the great expanse of grass, found the beach trail and began winding my way down to the beach.
I paused in the woods to enjoy filtered sunlight making shadows on the dirt path. I looked around, just enjoying it.
All of this was doubly pleasurable because yesterday it was 90 degrees at noon and remained that way until damn near 10 p.m, one of those freak summer days.
I sat trapped inside, sweating like a pig, working on my HR articles and sort of enjoying it but also feeling like I was doing HR work itself and not getting paid. Analytical Escapism.
So today you can’t keep me outside, I may well stroll the neighborhood after dinner in this fabulous 75 degree atmosphere.
So at the park I photographed the beach, squatted down to feel the water wind on my face and sniffed the air like a dog, then I climbed back up 2 great big hills on the trail to the parking lot.
It seemed more a park than a real trail, so I decided it was time to beat it. But I may come back soon to read or just lay around watching bees.
Now I am finishing up salad with good cheap Italian dressing and ravioli’s with spinich and some kind of cheese. The amount of sauce they put in these take home grocery market meals is a joke, so I opened up a can of chopped fire roasted tomatoes and dumped it right in. Excellent move.
This is a bona-fide full sized meal plus a piece of bread and I dumped 3/4 of the canned tomatoes in there. I’ll soon be so full I can hardly move.
and maybe I’ll sleep better tonight.
just from that little bit of hill climbing I got a boost and before that I was already high on the sun. So sometimes a moody morning can be turned around with a small adventure and a little effort.
especially when you are early in. I’m only just beginning The Descent into Madness. I am hoping if I give myself plenty of vacation moments like this and sleep well I can mitigate the onslaught.
I do love outside. And that is all for now.