Most of the daylight hours were spent on an exasperating, frustrating, inconclusive search for a July travel destination for the two terribly picky and not altogether compatible travel partners: Ed and me.
I have finally agreed to go back to some of our earlier adventuring (meaning: no prebooked overnights, tent and camping gear packed and ready for use, with lots of hiking and/or paddling thrown in). For Ed, the negatives of travel are not only in the prebooked tidy and pretty rooms, but, too, the hassle of taking complicated flights to distant places and being stuck there no matter what the weather or inclination -- until the flight back. Group adventuring is, for him, out of the question (you mean I have to talk to people and listen to what the guide says?) and campgrounds are where you go when it's midnight and you have no quiet corner to pitch your tent. Meaning when even the ditch by the side of the road is unavailable.
Me, I'm really squeamish about paddling where there are big ripples (I reject anything over grade I, especially given my attachment to traveling with my laptop) and I'm not too fond of bears, mosquitoes, big ocean waves and cliff-edged trails.
Do you see why there is so little overlap?
Right now, we have booked flights, but we intend to cancel them tomorrow. (I have invited my nephew to come stay at the farmhouse, so that should we choose to go somewhere, there would be someone to care for Isie boy and the cheepers, though if he comes and we go nowhere at all -- that'll be just fine!)
And so I have nothing, absolutely nothing to show for the day except a couple of useless flight reservations. Of course, there was a breakfast...
...and I did poke out on this cold and gloomy day to admire my flowers...
... and I said hi to the cheepers (it's so green outside already!)...
... but apart from this, we are bleary eyed from staring at our computer screens and not very enthusiastic about any of the trip options we have on the table right now.
At the end of our search efforts, Ed muttered -- maybe we should just go down the Wisconsin River for a few days... And you know, suddenly that just doesn't seem like such a bad idea. (Even though we've done this trip. More than once.)
We take a break. We run errands. We come back a touch more optimistic. We'll sleep on it. Yeah, we'll sleep on it all.
I bake Tartine Bakery brownies to fill the house with aromas that distract us from the cold day outside and the tedium of surveying open travel computer tabs inside.
In the evening, the energy level shifts. Snowdrop is our guest and she keeps us entertained.
In answer to the commenter who asked about her hand to mouth activity, consider Snowdrop and the mouse:
Or Snowdrop and striped piggie:
Or why not aim big -- Snowdrop and the Minnesota moosie:
Or Snowdrop and the upside down cow:
Or Snowdrop and the right side up cow:
All from tonight. How can you not smile and smile at this little girl?!
The evening passes. Snowdrop goes home.
Ed and I laugh at our earlier indecisiveness. Even as we have no Einsteinian moment as to what direction our summer adventuring should take.
I have finally agreed to go back to some of our earlier adventuring (meaning: no prebooked overnights, tent and camping gear packed and ready for use, with lots of hiking and/or paddling thrown in). For Ed, the negatives of travel are not only in the prebooked tidy and pretty rooms, but, too, the hassle of taking complicated flights to distant places and being stuck there no matter what the weather or inclination -- until the flight back. Group adventuring is, for him, out of the question (you mean I have to talk to people and listen to what the guide says?) and campgrounds are where you go when it's midnight and you have no quiet corner to pitch your tent. Meaning when even the ditch by the side of the road is unavailable.
Me, I'm really squeamish about paddling where there are big ripples (I reject anything over grade I, especially given my attachment to traveling with my laptop) and I'm not too fond of bears, mosquitoes, big ocean waves and cliff-edged trails.
Do you see why there is so little overlap?
Right now, we have booked flights, but we intend to cancel them tomorrow. (I have invited my nephew to come stay at the farmhouse, so that should we choose to go somewhere, there would be someone to care for Isie boy and the cheepers, though if he comes and we go nowhere at all -- that'll be just fine!)
And so I have nothing, absolutely nothing to show for the day except a couple of useless flight reservations. Of course, there was a breakfast...
...and I did poke out on this cold and gloomy day to admire my flowers...
... and I said hi to the cheepers (it's so green outside already!)...
... but apart from this, we are bleary eyed from staring at our computer screens and not very enthusiastic about any of the trip options we have on the table right now.
At the end of our search efforts, Ed muttered -- maybe we should just go down the Wisconsin River for a few days... And you know, suddenly that just doesn't seem like such a bad idea. (Even though we've done this trip. More than once.)
We take a break. We run errands. We come back a touch more optimistic. We'll sleep on it. Yeah, we'll sleep on it all.
I bake Tartine Bakery brownies to fill the house with aromas that distract us from the cold day outside and the tedium of surveying open travel computer tabs inside.
In the evening, the energy level shifts. Snowdrop is our guest and she keeps us entertained.
In answer to the commenter who asked about her hand to mouth activity, consider Snowdrop and the mouse:
Or Snowdrop and striped piggie:
Or why not aim big -- Snowdrop and the Minnesota moosie:
Or Snowdrop and the upside down cow:
Or Snowdrop and the right side up cow:
All from tonight. How can you not smile and smile at this little girl?!
The evening passes. Snowdrop goes home.
Ed and I laugh at our earlier indecisiveness. Even as we have no Einsteinian moment as to what direction our summer adventuring should take.
