Chasing After the Lissome Girl

Last seen years and years ago dancing in the woods.

What did you expect? That you will have a lot of fun exploring these unfamiliar woods because you were once an adventurous lissome girl who ruled much wilder woods? That, although you are no longer lissome and you have a banged-up hip and a recently healed broken foot, you are still adventuresome? That somehow, in some ways, these woods will rejuvenate you?

This is precisely what you expect as you walk down the bridal path and into the woods.

A partial record of the events that followed:

Decide, in your old accustomed way, to immediately leave the main trail for a more inviting narrow path.

Admit in less than fifteen minutes that you are lost.

Stop panicking because you have a bottle of water, a fairly good sense of direction, and the resident bear is rumored to not come out until twilight, which is a good three hours away.

Recall the old advice to follow the sound of water. Invariably, it will lead to civilization, in this case the main street behind your house.

Good news! Find the brook.

Long to lie down in its cool rushing water the way you used to do in the creek back home on hot, humid August days such as this.

Hip reminds you that it can’t promise it will be of any assistance in hauling you out.

Settle for a flat rock close enough to dangle your feet in the current. Your hip is not happy with this solution, either, but you ignore its crankiness.

Once again refreshed, you return to the trail. It leads you into a marsh infested with hungry mosquitos, but it’s in sight of the main road.

Gauge you’re about a mile, a mile and a half, from home with many sharp hills in between.

Call your husband. As usual, he does not pick up.

See no one to ask for assistance. Not a living soul except for a healthy mom deer and her three babies grazing on someone’s lawn. She trots into a position that places her between you and her babies and holds your gaze until you get the message that you better skedaddle.

Thus begins trudging up and down hills, one of which is almost perpendicular. You collapse twice on the side of the road for a spell then get up and trudge some more.

Stumble through your front door about an hour later. Your husband is just getting up from a nap. Didn’t even miss you.

Decide to take a nice cool shower. You wonder how many ticks are burrowing into your skin.

Find the sharpest tweezers for your husband to scrape across your skin. Once you might have considered this to be a very erotic activity. Now you bark at your husband to hurry up before the blood-suckers invade your body.

Amused husband suggests you pour yourself a glass of wine.

Put together a dinner of lemony sardine pasta while sipping your third glass of wine. It sounds improbable, but nevertheless true, that you found one of the best brands of canned sardines—Santo Amaro—at the nearby Dollar Store.

Wonder at how far you’ve come from the lissome girl who would have gagged at the sight of these pudgy fellows. Come to think about it, there were many things she wasn’t adventuresome about, especially trying new dishes that were even a morsel off the meat and potato trail.

Realize how fine a life is left to you, more than the lissome girl ever could have imagined at this stage in her life.

Follow your husband outside and swing into the wide hammock beside him. Birds settle into their perches. Maybe that rustling is the bear following his nose to dinner. The trash can is outside the gate so he can have your skimpy leftovers. One by one stars pierce through the tree canopy.

Surprises abound in this beautiful twilight world of ours.

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America Eats! Last of the Summer Plans

It’s been quite a winter, spring, and summer over here at America Eats! and the girl is pooped. What really did me in was signing up for the poetry writing class I told you about a few weeks ago. It’s finally over—actually it’s been over for me since I very uncharacteristically begged out of the last two classes. Being so invigorated and challenged and picking my ass off the floor all the time to try once more to write a poem is not for the very weary.

As a result, I’m taking my brain out and putting it on a high shelf for the next few weeks. I’ll peek in from time to time—there’s just so much to share with you!

Until then, enjoy this time before the fall mayhem begins.