After weeks, no months, of planning on my escape for summer, I have to admit I’m kinda worried. Slowing down is hard to do.

I’m an active person, my days are spent making stuff, fixing stuff around the property, writing between projects, walking the dogs, and yes planning my trip. What will I do with myself when I have nothing to do? I’m so used to working at the grocery store four days a week recently that my days at home are a hive of activity. Although I say that with Stevie cat asleep on my pillow, Harold is lying on the tiles by the front door, and Rosie is taking in the sun. I’m exhausted. Tired from a job that is too demanding on an introvert like me, full of hundreds of strangers every day wanting to know where I grew up, what the tattoos mean, and don’t I love my job and all those ridiculous comments…too much stimulation.

No radio today, I can’t take any more conversations. No more blah blah blah.

The quietness of lakes and mountains are drawing me out of here. To sit by a lake and…and what? Can I relax? Will I be bored? Alone with two dogs and no internet? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I used to be at my happiest when alone, traveling, exploring, and yes, having the energy for conversations with strangers every so often. Now though, I like my alone time…

My plan is to create a new mindset, a new daily routine, one that feeds me and relaxes me both. The basic start of the day is coffee, walk dogs, and make breakfast. When I lived in Guatemala, I’d spend an hour or two on yoga, stretching, calming, slowing down. So yoga is back on my list. Writing is too. Each day, I will write, whether for here on the travel reports, for a new book, or for the Examiner. I will write. Stretch. Explore.

With only Harold and Rosie to consider and keep track of, it’ll be easier to hike the mountains and circumvent lakes, and cross creeks. Oliver, love him, was a long distance marathon runner. He’d be gone in a flash.

Harold however is an eight year old mama’s boy. I’m glad. I know where he is at all times.

Rosie is slowing down, not that you’d think that if you just met her, but believe me, she is.

Now she will run circles around us but no longer has Oliver’s bad example to follow. Walks, off leash because that’s all we really know, will take hours.
Setting up camp in new places first off, and then I’ll grab the courier bag and we’ll gather firewood for the evening ahead and the next morning too.
We’ll cook slowly over the fire as much as possible, taking my time and playing with ingredients. I’ll photograph the richness of forests and oceans, a huge contrast to my desert life in New Mexico. I’ll take naps in the shade of tall leafy trees.

Maybe I can do this after all? I’m out of practice, but am starting to remember the rhythm of slower days, of creative days, not those preparing for the job in town, or recovering from the job in town, but slow road trip days. And hours staring at lakes. Yep. I can do this.