Monday, November 13, 2017

Roughing It

Herself speaks.

Beloved Husband, Cherished Friend, and I spent the past weekend camping in the wilds of New Mexico. It was decidedly... primitive camping. with not even an available latrine. The temperature dropped significantly at night, to the point that I actually took a warmed rock from the campfire ring into my tent to keep my feet warm. (It was decidedly helpful to do so.) The campsite was wonderfully remote -- hardly another person to be seen or heard -- and the night sky was just lovely.

Part of me feels I might deserve a small round of applause for managing to maintain a pristine surgical scar, as well as to follow the low-FODMAP (anti-IBS) diet suggested by the GI doctor and to take care of all associated bodily functions in the woods, for the weekend. Yet another part of me needs no applause, but rather is quite satisfied that we did not treat me as a fragile incapable flower, but instead went about our business and pursued simple adventures in spite of my temporarily-increased physical neediness.

I did not go for a hike -- though I would have enjoyed it -- because I did not want to push myself too hard at that time. Instead, I took a close look at all the lichens and trees in our camp, and surveyed the number of small animal burrows in the vicinity. Simple pleasures.

I also enjoyed watching the two Menfolk make their way up the side of a big hill as they hiked. Snatches of their conversation drifted over the valley, indistinct, yet clear enough for me to hear the comforting tenor of their voices. It warms my heart to see the two of them together, taking some time to relax and enjoy the out-of-doors. Good for them.

It was a welcome respite from It All.

If you look closely, you can see them. 

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