I can't say I have any problem with going on vacation, other than the fact that you can't actually live like this all the time. For one, if we did, I'd soon weigh 300 lbs what with all the Kawartha Dairy product I'm ingesting, not to mention all the sleep I'm getting.
Charlie's been skipping thousands of rocks; yesterday skipped one five times! And today, my thoughts are like those great skippers.
We're right in the middle of our holiday, up at the Little Green Cottage just up the drive from the Big Gray House on the lake. The black flies are as thick as May for some reason this year, but that's not getting in our way. The lake is deep, the sky is big and my heart is full. Technically, it's Haliburton, and not Muskoka where I grew up, but it's just next door and it sure feels like home.
We all climbed the fire tower in Dorset today. Charlie's fallen asleep early with a bit of a fever, which always worries me a bit. Otherwise, we're happy as clams. On our way back from Dorset, we saw two foxes sitting at the side of the road. Healthy and alive, I should add. The first one scampered away on seeing our car; the other one was rather laid back, and waited until we were almost by him (or her).
I've been feeling pretty calm, not much second-guessing myself, not much in the way of trembling or adrenaline. Could be the CBT; I'm trying to be conscious and recognize when I'm listening to the very-well-exercised part of my brain that likes to build a case against myself. Could be the Cipralex, but I like to think it's not. Could it be, er, uh, the vacation? I'll find out this time next week! In the meantime, I'm enjoying. The other day I slept til noon, then made brownies with Charlie, then read and read and read the perfect vacation book: The Secret Life of Bees. We've been putting honey on our toast every day since.