ImPerceptibility

This choice was made under a tree last month.  I waited to be sure it was true.  It is and it is right. I’ll miss ImPerceptibility but mostly I’ll miss you.  Take care.

Goodbye Stranger

It was an early morning yesterday
I was up before the dawn
And I really have enjoyed my stay
But I must be moving on

Like a king without a castle
Like a queen without a throne
I’m an early morning lover
And I must be moving on

Now I believe in what you say
As the undisputed truth
But I have to have things my own way
To keep me in my youth

Like a ship without an anchor
Like a slave without a chain
Just the thought of those sweet ladies
Sends a shiver through my veins

And I will go on shining
Shining like brand new
I’ll never look behind me
My troubles will be few

(Goodbye stranger it’s been nice)
(Hope you find your paradise)
(Tried to see your point of view)
(Hope your dreams will all come true)
(Goodbye Mary, Goodbye Jane)
(Will we ever meet again)
(Feel no sorrow, feel no shame)
(Come tomorrow, feel no pain)

Sweet devotion,
It’s not for me
Just give me motion,
To set me free
Land in the ocean,
Far away
By my chosen
Every day

So Goodbye Mary,
Goodbye Jane
Will we ever
Meet again

Now some they do and some they don’t
And some you just can’t tell
And some they will and some they won’t
With some it’s just as well

You can laugh at my behavior
That’ll never bother me
Say the devil is my savior
But I don’t pay no heed

And I will go on shining
Shining like brand new
I’ll never look behind me
My troubles will be few

(Goodbye stranger it’s been nice)
(Hope you find your paradise)
(Tried to see your point of view)
(Hope your dreams will all come true)
(Goodbye Mary, Goodbye Jane)
(Will we ever meet again)
(Feel no sorrow, feel no shame)
(Come tomorrow, feel no pain)

Sweet devotion,
It’s not for me
Just give me motion,
To set me free
Land in the ocean,
Far away
By my chosen,
Every day

Now I’m leaving,
Got to go,
Hit the road
I’m sayin’ once again,
oh yes I’m leaving
Got to go,
Got to go.
I’m sorry another day
But Goodbye Mary,
Goodbye Jane
Will we ever
Meet again

Oh I’m leavin’
I’ve got to go

We started the first day of my seventh year of homeschooling today. Seven years. Wow. That’s a long time to be doing anything. Previously my longest job was two years. I left three days before my youngest was born with an arrogant, “I’ll be back in six months or when I run out of money. Which ever happens later.” Everyone laughed and said they’d see me soon. I’ve never gone back but if they haven’t changed the locks I could. I still have the front door key.

That was eleven years ago. Eleven years. Wow. That’s a long time to not be doing anything. I’d like to think I’ve made the most of it but so many of those early years were filled with getting through the day. So many of the later years were filled with getting through the night. Next year my youngest goes to middle school.

One more year. Wow. That’s not very long to decide what to do. How do you decide what to do with the rest of your life? I couldn’t figure that out when It was time for me to decide. When things were easier and uncomplicated. Now what? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Yesterday the girls went to play at friends house and I found myself with a few hours of me time. It’s something that has been happening more and more. They grow up. Thankfully! I found myself looking through the NetFlix instant queue for something to watch. I’m a documentary gal. It doesn’t matter what it’s about, if it’s low budget, out of the ordinary, or just plain strange I’ll watch it – and like it! That’s why I know so much about NYC health inspectors and California communes. That’s also why I know more about mens penises than most men. No need to get into that right now, though.

I looked through my instant queue but I wasn’t in the mood for stories about strip clubs or Mississippi jukes. I was too weary from the “Ground Zero” “mosque” bullshit for more Iraq war. I couldn’t handle more, why our food supply is fucked. I didn’t care why I was going to hell. I was about to leave and go play Farmville, or something, when I saw a suggestion. ‘No Impact Man’ recommended to you because of your interest in Food, Inc. and Howard Zinn. Food and Zinn? Really? Okay. I’ll watch it.

It wasn’t one of the best. I liked it and it was interesting but the experiences of a NYC couple with one young child didn’t mean much to a mommy of teenagers in the suburbs of Virginia. Does this guy realize I’d have to drive 30+ minutes out of my way for a glass bottle of milk. Unless we’re doing a science experiment, worm and the resulting flies belong in the ground, not my kitchen. My garden could run circles around his mentor’s plot. Everything they were talking about I’d heard before, ten years ago. Poopy head, I thought. And that was that.

Until I opened my email and attempted to get through the back log that has plagued me since early July. Take the No Impact Man One Week Challenge is what it shouted out to me in big bold letters. Coincidence? Fate? Nahh. More like good marketing but I said, “Alright No Impact Man what you got?”

Pretty much more of the same. Not one suggestion that I wasn’t already doing that would make sense in my life. Nothing that sparked an interest or even made me want to click through on a link. I’m getting old and crotchety. I don’t have a desire to change the world by stomping on my clothes in the bathtub. I’m particularly fond of toilet paper. I don’t feel that there is anything I personally could do or change to make any significant difference. I’m greened out and this disturbs me.

I’m sorry No Impact Man I wanted to believe but I’m too busy right now for your challenge. I have to weed my organic garden and make a batch of castille soap. Our three recycle trash cans and one waste trash can are kinda full. My compost pile needs turning. I need to write about spending three nights sitting on the beach with my family and watching sea turtles hatch. I don’t need someone trying to sell a book telling me how to save the world. I’ve trusted the advice of people who have practiced what they preach for decades and it has done well by me. Right now I just want to be left alone and do my own thing my own way. And my way involves electricity, hot water, and air conditioning. So what? Spank me.

Last night I had that dream again. The one with You and me and also You. The river and crab pots. Pulling up pots of blue crabs. Do you remember when I had that dream before? I woke up feeling a bit unsettled and disrupted. I typed it up. Surrounding my feeling with words and corralling them into sentences. I left those sentences in the comment section of your blog. Careful not to say too much. Then I forgot about them.

Last night they came back to me. I woke up feeling lonely and lost. Knowing that I missed chances and let hurt feelings and thoughts of insignificance change my ambitions. I longed for something that wasn’t but could have been.

You had the free spirit and You had the style. I wanted both of them and I devoured your words and thoughts. I stole your emotions and reworked them until I could figure out my own. Then I worked hard to write what was. Carefully picking words and rewriting phrases until they were just right. Then I’d start all over again. Sometimes it worked out and sometimes it didn’t but I was content either way. It felt good to wake up and feel real again. But real isn’t always nice and real isn’t always pretty. Sometimes real is more than others want to hear. Real to me isn’t always the same real to others and that’s okay. My words are mine and because of You and You I’ve learned to respect them.

Thank You. And You. Really.

Sorry for the delay in the story. Life was keeping me too busy to write and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to write as the ending anyways. I don’t feel too bad about keeping you waiting because I think anyone that has read my blog for any period of time already knows that I finished this walk. There was no way I would get 5/6 of the way across England and not finish the last 15 miles. You know me better than that.

I woke up naked and alone in my room. I was still a little drunk but not much. The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was MyHusband stroking my cheek, speaking soft love words in my ear, and telling me how well I had done so far. Even though every inch of my body was sore I got up and got dressed and packed up. My sore blistered feet gingerly made their way down the three flights of stairs and into a gray dull morning. I secretly hoped it would stay that way all day. I secretly love gray dull days. They energize me more than they depress me. I guess that says something about me, or maybe not.

It took a few miles but my muscles loosened up and my feet went numb. I was doing pretty good and making good time. Iain joined us for a few miles. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to walk with us, he was hoping I’d take off my shirt again, or he had been assigned to us to make sure I didn’t die along the way. Either way he was a lot of fun and we had a good conversation. He seemed like a good guy. I hope I didn’t bore him too much with my stories. For some reason I told him some things you’ll never see me write about on here and the payment book for the hush money should be arriving in my mail any day now.

The day was going good until it started raining. It wasn’t bad at first. A light drizzle that made me feel rebellious and carefree. Walking through the rain, spirits high, bring it on! I can take it. What else you got? Then it got worse. And my formerly aching body became currently aching. Each step was harder than the last. This is where I perfected what MyHusband calls “The Windup”

First my hips would cramp and I would stop and stretch them out. Then I would take a few shuffling steps (Something like this), then I’d manage to slowly take larger more meaningful steps. I’d just be getting back into my pace when my hip would cramp again and I’d start all over again. In a way it was comical, in another way it wasn’t.

The windup continued as we walked across the most depressing marsh land I’d ever encountered. It was mile after mile of flat boring land and every inch was covered in shit – wet, slimy, slippery shit. It was not pleasant but it was the end so it was mostly tolerable. Thanks to the rain and shit there was nowhere to sit down so even at an the oldest fireman’s pace we were making good time and after what seemed like hours, because it was hours, we saw some people standing in front of a pub.

Upon entering the establishment we were informed there was only one more mile to the end. I guess I was supposed to be happy but for some reason I wasn’t. As much as I wanted it all to be over, there was still a part of me that didn’t want it to end. I declined an invitation to sit down and have a drink because I was afraid I would not be able to get up again. Sounds dramatic but it wasn’t too far from true. We walked the last mile with a few others and it did feel good to finish. It felt better to get to the pub at the end and sit down.

I sent a text message to my oldest, “We did it!”

She texted back, “OMG Awesome!”

It made my week.

We celebrated finishing the walk and also celebrated Ed’s 65th birthday with a delicious chocolate cake. Then a rowdy bus ride, that I’m sure horrified the locals, back to Carlise finished out the day.

Pizza in bed with MyHusband was dinner that night and I feel asleep in a comfy bed beside him and spent the night dreaming about salty waves on my favorite beach with the people I love. It was time to pack up these memories, take what I could from them, and move on to new ones.

Thank you to everyone. It was an adventure and I am happy to have had the opportunity to share it with you.  I’ll finish up with saying, “Until next time.” Where next time involves less walking and animal dung, but more beer!

I woke up feeling pretty good and rested considering I’d spent the night sleeping with five very attractive men. I was a bit disappointed I’d only seen two of them naked but what can you do? I was ready to hop out of bed and start my day but it didn’t happen. I could not lift my legs over the side rail of the bunk bed. “Holy Shit!” I thought, “I have done permanent injure to my lower extremities.” I laid there for a little while listening to everyone breath then I rolled over and went back to sleep. I decided to try again later and it worked out for me. Mostly because when I woke up the second time I was hungry. Very, very hungry. It motivated me.

We packed up, picked up our lunches and got ready to head out. Oli gave me a walky talky to keep in touch with the rest of the group. “Cleanup on aisle 6” I announced into the handset with my best supermarket announcer voice. No one answered so I figured either mine wasn’t working or my humor wasn’t appreciated. It happens. It happens a lot actually. I’m used to it.

We had a nice day for walking. The view wasn’t as spectacular as Day 3 but the path was flat and grassy. At this point I needed flat and grassy. It was nice listening to the chatter over the handset as we walked. It didn’t seem like we were all alone in the middle of nowhere. Plus Oli’s banter was quite motivating. We were doing pretty good that day until I realized I had to use the bathroom.

I really needed to use the bathroom. Unfortunately we were walking in a more active area and there wasn’t any public bathrooms to be found. We walked and watched a farmer harvest an entire field of wheat. And I still had to use the bathroom. My bladder was aching, and yes, the bathroom. In desperation I grabbed a tissue from MyHusband’s pack and ran behind a tree.

I looked behind me and and I looked in front of me. There was no one around so I dropped my pants and started taking care of business. I was mid business when I saw two women with a dog walking up a previously unnoticed path to my right. There was no grab and run. The floodgates had been released and they weren’t stopping for two women with a dog. I sat there crouched beside a tree , white ass gleaming, peeing and trying to act casual. I managed to finish up before they got close enough to identify me, I think. I scurried back to my husband with my undies in a bunch from the quick pull on and run. We sat on a bench pretending we were having an intense discussion. They walked by and I had to bite my lip hard so I wouldn’t laugh when the dog stopped by my pee tree and looked at it funny.

MyHusband and I had our first argument and only argument of the trip today. It really wasn’t much of an argument, half-assed at best. We have done better. It was almost pathetic as far as arguments go and not really worth mentioning. Moving on.

We finally arrived in Carlise and it looked like a fun town. I was too beat to really care but it looked fun. We made our way up to our room on the third floor and I took off my boots. Big mistake.

My big toe had a huge blood blister going completely around my nail and there were pieces of skin hanging off the side. The toenail was a disgusting color of purple and it was numb.

“Just look at my toe!” I whined to MyHusband. Then I started to cry. It seems crying was becoming a habit on this trip. It was what it was.

I managed to eventually get myself together enough to head back out for dinner. I felt bad that we had missed seeing the founder of the organization we were walking for but what can you do? I walked into the bar and ordered a beer. Then I drank it, quickly. About the time I was peering up through the bottom of the glass, emptying the last precious drop into my mouth I had a revelation. I would drink until everything stopped hurting. It seemed like a good plan. I was looking through the bottom of the second, or maybe third pint when I saw Rajiv taking off his shirt.

“We’re supposed to take off our shirts!” I shouted. Who knew British Pub etiquette dictated taking off your shirt before drinking? No wonder I was having problems getting to know people. I was uneducated about the local customs. When in Rome, I thought. That’s when I frightened an entire pub full of innocent people. I don’t think anyone really needed to see me pulling off my shirt but at least everyone was polite enough to act like they liked it. Some of them were kind enough to act like they really, really liked it.

We went for a great dinner at a Chinese restaurant shortly after that. It was fun night and I downed a couple more beers. By the time I fell into bed at the end of the night I was quite happy. Only 15 miles left, I sang in my head like a small child singing a nursery rhyme. 15 Miles to go. I’m going to make it.

I woke up and rolled over onto my back and looked up. There was a bird chirping in the tree I was sleeping under and I was hoping he would crap on me. It would have been a perfect start to the day but my wishes were unfulfilled. I laid there a little longer wondering what homeless people though when they first woke underneath a bridge, in a tunnel, or beside a tree? I thought maybe I should ask a few, maybe make a documentary, but then I realized I was probably better off not knowing.

The cornflakes did not taste like corn and the milk did not taste like milk. The bowl was nice, though. I remembered lumpy oatmeal I had eaten on a cold morning with the sun coming up over the mountains. My soul was filled to full with drunken conversations and music that made me cry happy, longing tears. Tears filled with promises and hope. Then I started crying, but these tears were different. They were lonely, homesick, angry, bitter tears and they wouldn’t stop.

“Fuck ‘em all” MyHusband whispered in my ear. “It’s just me and you.”

I put my buff on Jesse James style and begrudgingly fulfilled my obligations full of resentment and my unending stream of tears strategically hidden from view. “Fuck ‘em. I might be crying but they won’t see me cry.”

We set off and I began limping my way down the path, heading out for the next 15 miles of my journey.

The day went. There were good parts – Standing on top of a ridge arms outstretched. The wind blowing hard against me and cautiously balancing on the very tip top. Hoping not to fall. There were bad parts – Freakin’ blisters. But mostly there were just parts and I made my way through them. It was nice to see the hostel at the end of the day. Only two more days.

I was at the hostel having a nice conversation with Justin when I looked up. What I saw almost made me run. Something was making it’s way, slowly and painfully, into the room and it was a very strange color and it was frightening.

“Oh my Lord!” I thought. “That man has been attacked by a zombie!”

I quickly went through my emergency plans I have stored in my head and realized I did not have one labeled, “Zombie Attack Abroad” I decided to use my default plan. I asked Martin if I could get him some ice for his swollen severely sunburned knees. Much to my relief, after some rest and ibuprofen he seemed to be doing a little better.

Dinner that night was good – Veggie Lasagna – and once the doors in the hallway stopped banging every 30 seconds, so was sleep. It was a good night even if Ian didn’t seem to notice that Oli had short sheeted his bed.

I woke the next morning and found that either MyHusband had rolled me out of the crack between the beds or I had managed to work myself out. I was propped up on pillows surrounded by fluffy softness with the sun shining in the window. I looked around a beautiful room and wished I had a chance to enjoy it properly. I made my way downstairs and had a huge bowl of granola and strawberries, picked up an egg salad packed lunch, grabbed a few bananas, then we headed out. I was feeling strong even though I was trying to walk out the stiffness in my feet and hips. But I didn’t take myself too seriously. After all, how serious can things be when you are walking like a gorilla down a tree lined path eating a yummy banana. The day was off to a good start and I was soon to find it was only going to get better.

This wasn’t an easy day. It involved a lot of climbing. A LOT of climbing and it was very tiring, but the top of every hill had a better view than the last. It was a beautiful day and the sky got bluer as we went on. The clouds were puffy and white, the grass was a perfect green, and the bright colors from wildflowers were speckled across fields. I ignored the dead animals a farmer had hanging on his gate. WTF? Anyways, besides that it was beautiful.

Part of the way into the walk we met up with Phil and we stayed with him for the rest of the day. It was nice talking with him and I enjoyed his thoughtful way of thinking about and discussing things. It felt right hearing about his kids and his thoughts about the walk so far. A little later we met up with Arjan, Jo, and Ellie. We all made our way up hills and down hills, over rocks and under trees. They were all fun and cheerful and I enjoyed every minute I walked with them. Even the minute I realized I had caused permanent harm to Arjan’s psyche by playing with his zipper then, being unable to do it right, calling MyHusband over to finish it up.  Then it happened.

Ellie twisted her ankle on a rock and my heart sunk. There was nothing I could do but hope she was alright. We tried to take her bag for her but she refused. Jo tried to give her an extra walking stick to help her walk but she refused. She rubbed some icy hot on it, got back up and started walking. She walked up very steep rocky hills and back down the other side with a sprained ankle. Jo was beside her every step of the way, cheering her on. I was so impressed with them. The world would be a better place if more of us had that much strength and character.

We took our time and made it to the pub with not much time to spare before dinner. When we walked in everyone shouted and I startled.  I took a few steps back because I thought something was about to fall on me. Then I realized it was a welcoming cheer and not a warning shout. Of course by then it was too late and everyone had gone back to what they were doing. I managed to to get a beer suggestion from Les before sitting down. It was a good beer. Thanks Les.

I was worried about dinner – Lentil Pie – but it was unfounded. It was delicious and reminded me of a dish my mom used to make, except she used rice instead of lentils. It felt comforting and I felt warm and happy. I was proud of what I had accomplished that day. We left right after dessert with full stomaches, wonderful memories, and a head full of some of the most beautiful scenery I had ever seen.  I was ready for a shower and bed. Life was good and nothing was going to change that, or would it?