Staying Home

Years ago, when I lived in (Conservative Ranching Town Six Hours From Here), I never stuck around. On the weekends I escaped to nicer venues: Crater Lake, Bend, here. I couldn't fathom staying put in a wind-driven, tumbleweed-infested place with no trails, no place to swim, no kindred souls. I used to spot Gary, the only other single person I knew, on our mutual street late on a Sunday.

"They never go anywhere," I shuddered, indicating the neighbors, who labored in their yards, worked on their houses, went to the grocery store. Didn't they know there was a big world out there? That their lives were flashing by at warp speed? Didn't they want to see everything there was?

I would never go back there to live, but now I kind of get it. They liked it there. It was their home. And I was a girl without a home, searching for one.

With that in  mind, I decided to stay home this weekend. Jerry is on his drink beer with the guys Men's Ski Trip and I have a free, selfish two days. Yes, it looks like it might be sunny enough to attempt a backpack to the Snake River. Oh, the Wenaha might be nice! Hmm, Anthony Lakes? But in the end I decided to appreciate my back yard. And it has been great so far.

I ventured over the flume.

Pretty nice view from the State Park a half mile from my house.

Wallowa Lake, only a month or so until Operation Pink Kayak can begin. Not to mention Swimming with Wetsuit While Others Think I am Crazy.

I'm not missing a thing.