Getaway

Sometimes you need to get away from the hustle and the bustle.

Where the road to get there has so doubled back on itself that every turn is blind.

Where radio stations cease to exist.

Where you accept that three blankets and smelling like smoke is normal because otherwise you'd be cold. Teeth chattering cold. Three dog night cold. 

That's basically my parents house. I am incredibly fortunate, not only to have a close relationship with my parents, but also to remain close by them. I can shove the dog, the sewing machine and an iPod in the car and in two hours I'm back to home cooked meals and a house full of people. You know, the kind that know you and understand you and love you unconditionally. Mostly unconditionally.

I get to recharge my batteries by doing nothing, or doing everything I want. I can sleep in or go for a run in the morning (yeah, remember those?)- take the dogs or leave Ripley to play with my parents' dogs. I can cook or ask my sister to do it with me. I can sink into that damn couch and nap throughout the day because that's how life moves up here.

I'm sinking, slipping, sliding into calm. And when I come out? I can stand to face the daily grind once more.