I think it's time...
Time for me to sneak away in the night like a--like a...
like a person who wants to be a hermit all of a sudden and for just a few days.
I want to quit school
quit the paper
quit blogging
quit socializing
quit typing.
That oughta do it.
Then I'd have more time to:
rock
...and roll...around...
or at least more time to work out and read books.
But no, I have no desire to quit blogging right now.
I've taken the space necessary in this department.
I just don't want to do anything else anymore.
Today....
I will hike my FAVORITE hike,
with some of my FAVORITE people.
And I should be getting ready right now...
I should be showered and dressed and backpack packed and scurrying around the crowded aisles of a grocery store right now--
gotta leave the family with provisions, dontcha know.
Raspberry ice tea, of the 5% alcohol-ic variety.
And water.
And towels.
And.
I love my Diamond Fork hot springs with a passion equal to the nuclear fusion happening inside the core of the sun.
Dude. You have NO idea how much heat is generated by hydrogen atoms fusing into helium atoms.
Seriously.
It's intense.
Oooo....let me find the essay I wrote about my hot springs....
hold on....
That was quick.
Voila---
Making the acquaintance of the Diamond Fork hot springs was the first step I took down the path of accepting Utah as a place worthy of the name “home.” It has taken many years to completely push out the hate I once held with determined fingers, but I have, and Diamond Fork continues to be top on my list of what feels like home about Utah.
My first visit was nearly ten years ago, as an adventure-thirsty twenty year old. We drove too fast over bumpy dirt roads through the warm night of early fall—windows down, music up. We had one flashlight with us, batteries weak, beam short. We drowned the darkness instead with laughter and the crunching of gravel under eager feet. The leader of our expedition, my best friend and adventure guru to this day, had done the hike only one other time, and in the murky night air she led us past the turnoff. We went up instead of down, and a two mile hike turned into ten, but somehow this made the destination even more satisfying. Ragged and dusty, we sank into the steaming water and felt the quiet, glittery thrill of finding a treasure buried in the mountains.
The invigorating hike is as restorative as the water itself, and provides additional motivation for my frequent visits. Walking the narrow path, I relish the sounds of the forest—it feels like home, like Maine. Leaves brush across each other, high overhead and give me the sense of being held close by strong arms. Velvety moss creeping across tree roots, ferns uncurling against the shade of a tall trunk, and pine needles slippery under foot work in concert to drag my conscious mind to the conclusion that I am home. Just as I lose myself in this reverie, the sulfur from the springs hits me—my mouth before my nose (possibly because I’m a Neanderthalic mouth-breather) and the taste makes me inhale deeply—which I immediately regret. This, in turn, makes me smile because it means I’m almost there. Almost time to sink, once again, into the soft, thick water, to lean back and close my eyes as the water bubbles and sighs around me. I remember, then, my first visit. I remember that the comfortable, entirely unabashed nudity of middle-aged men made us giggle. And that the overall mood of acceptance and camaraderie flooded us with hope and joy. It was a fully refreshing encounter for two Mainers, lost in the homogeny of Happy Valley. And that is what it has remained, for me: a place to recharge, a place to reflect, and mostly, a place to escape an unfamiliar culture.
*********
I am ecstatic.
I am filled with cookies and milk.
I am ready.
Last night I saw the coolest play.
A one man show, performed by the writer; autobiographical.
This man...
was so beautiful that I don't even know what he said for the first half of the show.
Mesmerizing.
Dazzling.
I'm going in tomorrow to get a sex change, just so that I might have the slightest chance of making sweet, sweet love to him.
He's gay, in case you didn't pick that up. heh.
And I was one of 5 women in the audience....
I am supposed to get an interview with him, but I'm pretty sure I would just sit and stare at him silently for about ten minutes,
and then say, "Thank you for your time. That was fascinating."
and walk into a glass door on my way out.
He's also funny and can sing, and did I mention the BODY???
Holy.
FUCK.
Ahem.
So anyway...
I'll get over it soon, I'm sure.
But for now, it's show tunes and testosterone pills!
Have a happy Sabbath day, and dont' forget to flip off organized religion-- |
posted by Bored Housewife at
10:49 AM
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