A decade ago, my middle daughter began an adventure that has placed her in harm's way, on the opposite side of the globe from home, on lands most of us can only dream of, and in the company of people that have enriched her life. She has performed duties that we lesser-disciplined and lesser-trained folks would find daunting to say the least.
My daughter is a Lieutenant in the US Navy. She began her journey those 10 years or so ago by submitting required paperwork to request acceptance into the US Naval Academy in Annapolis, MD. She was successful.
She was meritoriously mentioned during pre-graduation ceremonies at her high school. She met two of our local senators and congressmen in their offices - also part of the requirements for acceptance to the Naval Academy.
Following Plebe Summer, I arrived at the Academy for Parents' Weekend, and was absolutely awed by my surroundings. The tone of the weekend remained that way. I was overwhelmed with pride. That a daughter of mine could accomplish such things was beyond my comprehension.
Then onto another Parents' Weekend the year before graduation. This time, we were able to sight-see off-campus - and ventured to Washington, DC to see all the memorials. Such history.
Graduation from the US Naval Academy in itself was a lifetime event. My camera never left my side. As such, I was able to get a closeup of my beautiful girl shaking the hand of VP Cheney - just before receiving her diploma - in her crisp white naval uniform.
When we first learned that her first deployment would be on a personnel transport ship on its way to the Persian Gulf, life took a drastic turn - in thought, emotions, and constant vigilance; as much as we could glean from the vague information we were provided. The ship participated in the 2006 evacuation of Lebanon. She was occasionally able to e-mail us and keep us informed of her activities, though she could never tell us where she was exactly.
Her second deployment was the same as the first. Though we knew a little more, it was no easier to bear. When it was over, it was even harder to know that she would conduct her life on the other side of the country - in Norfolk, VA - her home port.
On the 3rd, and we hope the last, deployment, 'our' Lieutenant was assigned to a hospital ship - the USNS Comfort. It was to be a more peaceful mission - 4 months providing medical support to the more disadvantaged coastal areas of South America. The Comfort returned just this past July. Those family members who could make the trip were invited to meet the ship and their respective Navy members in Ft. Lauderdale, and sail up the coast to Norfolk with them - a Tiger Cruise.
And that is my latest lifetime event.
The Comfort is a refurbished tanker, commissioned by the Navy in December of 1987. She is not old by ship standards, but is well used.
Life on a ship is like none other. Great emphasis is placed on waste management - of all kinds. And even greater emphasis is placed on the safety of all personnel. We knew where our assigned lifejackets and lifeboats were during an 'abandon ship' drill the first day. This well-enclosed and well-ran ocean vehicle is a constant behive of activity - at all hours of the day.
Sleep the first night was non-existent. The ship is ran by steam engines. Water running through the pipes
clanged and banged every 3 minutes. It seemed the engine was right under my bunk. To get to any other areas of the ship from our berthing areas required climbing a series of stairways. The workout on our lungs and legs was tremendous. So on the second night, sleep was quite forthcoming. Though I brought dramamine, I didn't need it. The rolling of the ship was quite evident, despite the size of the ship, and it lulled me to sleep rather than upset any equilibrium. During the day, I simply had to watch my sea legs a bit more.
As each hour and day passed, I ventured further and further away from my comfort zone of familiarity, especially to the outside of the ship. I loved watching the ship sail across the waves.
I loved the playfulness that the rising and setting sun had with the ocean and the horizon.
We were provided with demonstrations of the helicopters taking off from and landing on the flight deck.
Upon notification that the ship had arrived in the coastal waters off Norfolk, VA, everyone made ready for departure.
We were informed the night before that we'd be lugging our luggage down what is called an ACOMM ladder - a steep slightly unstable structure whose side rail was rope - and a long climb down. Many of us were nervous. We arrived on the upper decks to 'man the rails' until the ship was berthed at Pier 12 at Naval Station Norfolk. A crowd of welcome-home family members cheered us in.
The ship essentially 'backed into' the berth area - a maneuver that can either make or break a career. The command of the Comfort did it perfectly. Then we disembarked. At last minute, we found out that we would not have to climb down the precipitous ladder, but rather a brow walkway almost level with the pier. What relief many of us felt.
Our sail with the USNS Comfort was over, but the adventure, for man of us Tigers will not be forgotten for quite some time. We made a few new friendships, and exchanged a few e-mail addresses. We took oh so many pictures.
And now that we had our military family members home safe and sound, we all said our good-byes, and ventured in different directions...
Until the next naval adventure begins.
My daughter and I spent the weekend together sight-seeing - Colonial Williamsburg. We cuddled on the couch at night and watched TV. We shopped and ate out during the day.
And now I miss her terribly... and think about the next time I will see her. Of all the emotions a mother can go through during such a lifetime event, pride and love are the greatest.
Her goal is JAG. Some of her duties in the past 3 years are pre-disposed for a law career. She has been accepted to a college in Virginia. She now waits on the Navy.
It is all good!
This is adorable, for all the young-at-hearts...
...an inspiring performance, including the mis-step!
It is my favorite time of year - Spring! Everything is new and coming to life. The sun is rising higher in the sky and the days are growing longer. No more SADD. Each year I take a picture of my garden's first blossom.
Now, I must give credence to my tomato plants' yellow and white blossoms, but I will await to see if the fruit they bear fully materialize first.
Just to be outdoors! It is amazing what being out in the sunshine does to a person's well-being.
Perennials, then, are my favorite plants. They return each year to surprise and please me, like an old friend coming for a visit.
It is wonderful to have something to look forward to.
After an initial review, I've decided to further research and ultimately build my first hydroponics system. Just a basic system to start with... a storage-bin container 3/4 filled with water fortified with the appropriate nutrients, then most likely the styrofoam layer (set on the water) for stability as the plants grow, and the use of small plastic cups fit into the styrofoam and each filled with a perlite/vermiculite growth medium - for each selected plant. It sounds quite fascinating.
My husband has been toying with his own new hobby -
building a basic solar panel setup to help power a few different appliances. He's also looking into building his own wind-power setup also. I thought one of these would work with my indoor hydroponics system - to power the water pump and lighting. The solar-panel setup would probably work the best, as it is more consistent. Then we would not have to rely on our household electrical output for this new hobby.
In today's economy, savings of any kind is a must.
Further updates on this venture will be forthcoming.
When you walk past any mirror, do you really look at yourself? What, if anything, can you glean for your reflection there? Some of us avoid looking, while others can’t resist a peak. Then there’s the true aficionado who stares at him/herself for hours. But what do any of us really see?
Our reactions to those mirror images, without question, are influenced by what we think others see. We wonder and worry about what their responses will be, when more importantly we should be focussing on our own self-visions.
The media bombards us with images of thin, thin, and thin; and abs, abs, and abs. Even when advertising products that are generally used by those over 40, the models in the ads are under 30… not a true depiction. But, then, the companies and the ad agencies make money by playing on the public’s increasing gullibility and insecurity.
I am one of those that only sneak a peak now and then. Oh, I am in front of a mirror every day, but only for the few seconds it takes to comb my hair. I don’t wear makeup. So I don’t pay much attention. Still, those few seconds tell me a lot… that I’m getting older; the wrinkles are getting deeper. Are they laugh lines, or are they frown lines? Depending on my mood, they are either. Occasionally, I get real profound and tell myself they are ‘life’ lines.
The contours of our bodies, the lines etched in our faces, the spots upon our skin, and the natural colours of our hair – are all works of art – the art of living, no matter our age. But that is a difficult realization to come to. Yet, it is the only true reality. I’ve seen a small child with fine lines etched into his face. And I’ve seen an 80-year-old woman with none at all.
As an adolescent beginning junior high, I was quiet and reserved, which made me a target for teasing and being taken advantage of. It was a brand new environment and a whole new set of rules. My parents were strict in their religious beliefs, which put me at a great disadvantage – in my eyes. It was the mid-to-late 60’s when the fashion was mini-skirts and go-go boots, which I wasn’t allowed to wear. Cliques of female classmates had fun pretending to allow me to join their groups, knowing full well that I wouldn’t pass their ‘initiations’. I really did try, until they just laughed and talked about me, while I was within earshot. I, therefore, learned to hate school, and to mistrust my own gender. I became a loner, and remained so throughout high school. Eventually, I learned to tell myself, and rightfully so, that they weren’t worth my companionship. Yet, the feeling that I would never ‘fit in’ had ingrained itself deeply into my psyche.
That is just the type of insecurity that entrenches us in the vicious cycle of needing to look beautiful, to be beautiful… on the outside. I know that I’m not beautiful on the outside – never will be. I just don’t possess those qualities, if that is indeed what they are. I’ve been told that I shouldn’t think that way. I don’t think such things to ‘cut’ myself down. It’s just a fact in the eyes of society. That fact I’ve come to accept. What I don’t accept is that how I feel, how I see life, and how I try to live life in this new millennium – is unacceptable in the eyes of most people today.
I will explain why a little further on.
My parents, unwittingly and innocently, had started me on a hard road. My classmates forced me to look to myself, and only me, for comfort and support. And today, the media irritates my hard-earned sensibilities, because today – I know it is essentially superficial and phony.
I ran away from home at 18, and ran from the frying pan into the fire. Hard living drew me even more into myself. It was very difficult to trust anyone, and when I did try to, I was pre-disposed to believing they would let me down; and they did almost every time. Today they call it the ‘law of attraction.’ But I survived, and today I view that survival as my purpose in this life.
I knew hard work. My parents taught us self-reliance. We built our beautiful home and the acre of landscaped land that surrounded it over the course of our childhood years.
My classmates taught me the difference between going with the crowd and standing out alone, and the loneliness that usually ensues.
Hard living taught me that giving up was unacceptable, and that personal integrity was essential. We listen too often to the opinions of others. We, then, become them instead of ourselves. That was unacceptable to me.
It had been a long tough road, but I was beginning to like myself – at a time when everyone around me, and society in general, was scrutinizing my graying and older reflection in the mirror. I chose not to subscribe to that scrutiny.
There is so much beauty going on ‘under my skin.’
It was during the roughest times in my life that I discovered my love for working in dirt, for creating works of art, and for listening to beautiful music. When I wrote home, the letters were multiple pages long. It was important to relay my deepest thoughts so that the reader would understand my plight. Those ‘books,’ as my mom called them, brought to light my overwhelming desire to share my experiences through writing.
We are told as children to grow up and behave. I never have, not fully. Yes, I behave in an adult manner while conducting most of my daily tasks. But my heart and mind also continue to revel in childhood activities. My husband and I, now in our mid-to-late 50’s, absolutely enjoy watching children’s movies. We recently watched both Happy Feet and Horton Hears A Who and loved them. We partake in a helping of cake and ice cream more often than most think we should. We have embarked on the new hobby of two-wheeled mobility; no, not of the bicycle variety. He has a Harley Davidson; me, I have a Suzuki 400cc motor scooter. Friends and family think we’re crazy, must be going through a mid-life crisis. Not that motorcycling is a childhood activity, but our societal circle thinks we’re too old. Well… we don’t care.
And why should they think that anyway? We are careful. We research and study all the pros and cons. We didn’t get into the activity foolishly. But we got into it nonetheless!
Each year, at our annual family Christmas parties, finding out what my contribution to our gift-giving has become a fun part of the get-togethers. The reason for that is because my gifts are home-made and different each year. The fact that they are hand-made makes them that much more sought-after, because they are created with thought and care. And that is my objective.
And it is fun!
Being resourceful and self-reliant seems ‘lost’ on today’s young. They’d rather pay to have most unsavory or time-consuming tasks done. To get one’s hands dirty, or to sweat just a little under the hot sun… well, those are no no’s. The days and sometime weeks it takes, and the seemingly tedious task it is to put a 1,000-piece puzzle together is another. To toil over the fine tuning of a beaded jewelry piece can be a daunting task for the faint of heart. They cannot see that that is the ‘stuff’ that personal integrity is built upon – patience and perseverance.
Hard work doesn’t just strengthen the body. Even more so, it strengthens the mind and soul. I worked hardest at things when life was troubling me the most. It was awesome therapy. I didn’t need any counsellors or therapists. And I especially didn’t need drugs or alcohol. Instead, I tried a new hobby, or renewed my interest in an old one. The point is, I looked to the creative side of my persona to guide me through the ‘curve balls’ life threw at me. Through a little bit of self-actualization, seeing a task done to its completion, or the personal satisfaction from creating something with my own hands, I drew the strength I needed to get through a crisis.
No self-destructive habits, nor any bullying of others to achieve my objectives. I abhor bullies of any kind, for I have been bullied way too often in this life. I desperately try not to perceive new acquaintances as guilty when I first meet them, but I do not perceive them as innocent either. Unfortunately, I have not completely lost that sense of mistrust that was so firmly established at a young age. It is an unending personal mission of mine to change that. I am by no means infallible. To a fault, I am modest and humble, among others… more qualities that are frowned upon. But I will not change. I happen to like them and am proud of them.
I am also not very religious, something my parents were and are quite disappointed in. The guilt is there, but I pray often, usually for others and not for myself. But then, to ask that my family be kept safe and free from worry – wouldn’t that also help in my life being a bit more safe and worry-free? As an adult, I’ve only entered places of worship for weddings and funerals. To me, the surroundings and the environment are oppressive and repressive. My ‘cathedral,’ instead, is nature in all its beauty and glory. There, my God and I have chats. Sometimes I’m angry with him. Other times, I sense and am awed by the tiny role I play. But I pray to Him that He allow me to play that role well, and as he sees fit. Though I have no idea who ‘coined’ it, I take much strength from the phrase “God helps those who help themselves.”
So, in that – I believe that I am spiritual.
I will never stop evolving, stop growing. I also don’t believe our development stops when we pass to the other side. I believe we then become ‘guidance counsellors’ for those we leave behind, guardian angels if you will. These beings’ monitoring of our lives is in response to our prayers. This is what makes sense to me.
The lines and boundaries that society and people close to us have drawn for us are very hard to cross. It is painful to be alone. We avoid it. Quite frankly, we should not avoid, but rather meet the pain head on.
If we limit our individual thoughts and actions to the projected thoughts and actions of others - who, then, are we really? All the things I’ve come to love and enjoy through my own efforts – they would then be non-existent. The child-like fantasies, and not having (too much) fear in trying new things – would be non-existent. I, as a unique individual, would be almost extinct.
There is a program going around the country, and it is depicted on one of our syndicated TV channels (USA Network) – called Characters Welcome. Well-known photographers travel from coast to coast to find and take photos of those they feel portray their unique characters. They are colourful, move with abandon, and take little heed of who will see them, possessing the courage to ‘act a fool.’ They are being themselves. These are the stories we do not hear often enough.
One important key to possessing this real courage is being true to, and with, yourself. Question yourself often. What has brought me to this decision? Why did I react that way? Why can’t I do that? Who can I really trust? Am I really having fun? Do I really like who I am? If a really heavy-duty crisis were to hit me tomorrow, would I make it through?
So, what do you see in your mirror every day? Someone whose life path is acceptable by the one staring back at it? Is the stage you have reached in your life so far brought you far enough along that you will have no trouble continuing on down a righteous path – no matter the obstacles? Do you see someone whose reflection really is beautiful after all?
This where that age-old adage comes in oh so very handily….
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder….
Hello All.
This is Lou (EarthenHues).
Some days I just want to vegg. I'm usually an active person, involved in a number of activities, but now and then a day comes where I just want to feel empty and untethered to any task. Today is such a day; except to post this post, which seems the thing to do at the moment.
Blogging and social networking take a lot of time. It is enjoyable but very time-consuming. Nonetheless, here's my first post in this group. It's so long overdue, and I'm tired of feeling guilty.
I love photography way over and beyond most other hobbies. But here in AZ, gardening needs to be done soon if at all, as in another 45 days, the heat will begin to arrive... and new plants will die... so establish, and establish now. This year I've begun my attempt to be self-reliant in producing my own vegetables. It's only the beginning, mind you. Tomatoes (cherry and mediums), cabbage, lettuce, spinach, brussel sprouts - and herbs. I will see how these fare... and try more mid-Fall.
Hubby and I have found a new past-time too. Motor-biking. The reason I spell it that way, is that it must encompass more than one kind of two-wheeler... his Harley Davidson, and my Suzuki motorscooter trike - which is, of course, now a four-wheeler. We've been all over town lately. But as of yesterday, we can venture farther out now. I passed the MC Skills Road Test and now have my license endorsement. Yeah!! He has ridden bikes in his past, but I've never done so... so this is quite thrilling for me!
Middle daughter just left on her third deployment, but fortunately not to the Middle East this time. She is an ensign in the Navy, and is onboard a Hospital Ship enroute to South America. They will provide pop-up medical clinics for the lesser-advantaged areas. She does such good work. I am quite proud of her.
Well, that is things in a nutshell.
Earthenhues
Slow strolls in the afternoon sunshine, endless conversations, silent prayers for so many reasons... your health, my health, the crazy uncertain world I was bringing you into. I was happy, absolutely happy and at peace. You brought sanity back into my life.
You participated in those conversations too. A kick here, a jab there. Sometimes I'd gently poke you back, mainly to get you to move your foot from a tender spot.
I loved our doctor... I looked forward to appointments with her. She always had wonderfully new news of you. It wasn't hard to decide if I wanted to know your gender. I pronounced a quick and resounding 'yes!' You waved at me on the ultrasound monitor, and our bond had already formed. It was strong between mother and daughter.
When my thoughts were on you, the outside world faded. We were cohorts in all of our dream-like forays. We window-shopped, I took you to the park where future playmates would be and hear their laughter and fun, you kicked real hard when I came upon the name I would give you. Being pregnant with you was easy and fun. During those exquisite 9 months, I kept you to myself selfishly. Those closest to us in life could not be nearly as happy about your existence as I was.
That last month, you moved incessantly. I fully understood you would let me know when you were ready, and that it would happen quickly. You had already proved to me you were a go-getter, that you'd ardently pursue whatever you set your heart on - wasting not a moment. Countless nights you woke me up to 'talk.' I'd massage your head and smile. And I knew with all certainty that you could see it.
That chilly day arrived. You barely gave us time to get to the hospital. Two hours of labor, sweet girl. I spent most of it on my side. An angel of a nurse came in now and then, and ever so gently caressed the length of my exposed arm with her finger. Oh so imperceptible, yet so thoughtfully applied, it took my mind off the contractions.
It's funny now... you just sort of plopped out like a cork. You were tiny, but what a small package. You whimpered, and before I knew it you were in my arms. For the next year, that is where you spent much of your time. But that night, that one joyful night, you slept beside me - as I watched your abdomen rise and fall, you cocooned in a blanket to keep you safe and warm.
Our relationship had begun, and set on a journey and adventure like none other. The joys, the tears, the scares, the pride, and the awe all in one.
I love you sweetheart.
Quiet, reserved, and terribly introverted, my favorite place as a child was away from people.
This meant outside – anywhere outside.
Woods and meadows surrounded my home in all directions. My childhood was rooted in deep country living.
At any time of day, and any time of year – my haven was in fresh air, in an environment bereft of laughing, judging and condescending people. Rather, the clouds, mud-pond frogs, fluttering butterflies, flitting fireflies, tall trees, swaying ferns, the day’s warm sun, the night’s blue moon, and my imaginative dreams - were my companions.
My ‘outside world’ had no real dangers. I could possibly fall from a tree, stumble head-on into a hidden cow patty or small boulder while bounding down a pasture knee-high with grass, plunge head-on into a frigid stream while tobogganing, or be chased between barbed-wire fencing by a cow. Otherwise, the great outdoors was a safe and enchanting refuge. And, except for the longer excursions deeper into the woods, I was usually barefoot. Fresh country air, constant activity, and an abundance of energy kept my body lithe and healthy.
School didn’t deter me from seeking out my favorite companions either. I did try to make friends at school, but I found them silly and hurtful. The nuns frightened me. I was only to learn at school, and get decent grades – that was all. I made that decision just a few years into elementary school. It gained mom and dad’s approval too.
Recess was a small reprieve from classes, as it was spent outside. Only one sport got me into a competitive arena and cavorting with other classmates – baseball. One year, armed with my own bat and ball, I became pitcher of the game. But it was to be short-lived. After a momentous pitch, the ball went straight from the bat to my right eye. Horn-rimmed glasses followed – four-eyes. My baseball career ended, as did any attempt to be a part of a group of kids. I had no other such sporting skills, and even less desire to have friends.
As I entered middle school, my activities changed little. When autumn arrived, even walks in town amongst all the browns, oranges, reds, and yellows gave me solace. The smell of rich earth filled my nostrils. Each year I collected the colors of autumn, to be reminded – until they all turned brown and crumbled.
When snow arrived, gliding across the blanketed meadows and down unplowed roads in my plastic toboggan thrilled me. At night, the moon and an occasional owl kept me company, lighting the way and almost spooking me to death - an added bonus to the adventure.
The snow-melt brought warmth and days growing longer again. My outdoor activities decreased measurably as high school loomed. Walks in my beloved woods, with a slowing down of the pace, brought me closer to pursuits outside my inner sphere. The decreasing frequency of these forays made them even more personal and distinct.
Though many of my thoughts turned inward throughout high school, the instinct to be more aware of my immediate surroundings afforded me experiences that few others have encountered.
Because of one such event, autumn will forever hold a special place in my being.
It took place in a quiet, hushed area of the upper woods – a place we called the “cathedral.” The clearing was circular in shape, surrounded by tall, evenly spaced aspens and birch. Tall grasses that had long overtaken brush piles, old decaying fallen trees, strategically placed fern beds - placed by nature – littered the enclosure. Its depth and width - maybe a quarter mile.
The only evidence of man was the expanse of two braided wires faintly humming far above, and the only visible pole was at the far western boundary of the enclosure. Saplings hid its base from view.
Because of the distance between the cathedral and the house, I didn’t go to this sanctuary as often as I would have liked. This day, the conditions were prime for a gorgeous display of the sun’s rays, and its reflection in and around the abundant earthen hues – the peak of autumn.
Finding a rotting tree to sit on at about the position of 3 o’clock in the clearing (facing east), I quietly lowered myself, all the while my eyes spanning my circle of focus. I didn’t want to miss a thing.
I wasn’t disappointed.
A tiny finch alighted onto a branch not 3 feet above my head and began to chirp. Muffled creaking of a dead branch drew my attention to a brush pile approximately 25 feet away.
A squirrel appeared, foraging for the coming winter. Then a not-so-pleasant site, though I didn't become concerned, for the black and white form was wobbling away from me. I don't think it had detected me, or it just didn't care, for the skunk seemed in no hurry.
Apparently, all these wooded creatures felt no threat from me. I ventured to believe this.
All became quiet again. The breeze rustling through the leaves calmed me and I’d not felt such peace in a long time. The sun was gently lowering, growing larger as it neared the horizon – an illusion. Shadows grew longer as I watched.
Another branch creaked, only faintly this time, farther away toward the sun. I had to squint and move my head almost imperceptibly to see it, so that the glare wouldn’t fill my vision.
Out from behind the saplings at the base of the pole, a deer, a doe appeared. No antlers, alert ears and white tail, taught muscles. She scanned all around her with snap precision movements, as she stepped cautiously into the clearing. With each measured stride, she scanned again. Once in the clearing, her hooves landed silently on damp earth.
Then, on her cue – a quick look behind her – a tiny fawn stepped into view, mimicking its mother’s movements, though a little more clumsily.
I must have murmured, though ever so quietly, for the mother doe snapped her head in my direction and seemed to look right into my eyes. She was a good 100 yards away, but there was no mistaking her focus of attention. I could almost see her nostrils flaring, attempting to decipher any danger. It couldn’t have been any longer than a few seconds, though it seemed interminable. I did not move one muscle.
Finally, this cautious mother returned her attention to her baby, and they began their crossing. As both of them came into my full view, the giant orange orb surrounded them, casting them into a stark black silhouette of mother and fawn in the large orange, glowing and setting sun.
No camera could have done this scene justice. One day, time and ability permitting, I will render this memorable scene on canvas, with brush and paint. Until then, it is committed to memory.
The great outdoors will forever beckon me.
Looking at the moon stirs up all kinds of thoughts. Just stare at it and set your mind free.
Hello all
I'd joined Photogtaphy: Beginners and Pros Alike 'way back' when I began with Vox, but never went into and posted in any of the groups. Just a lack of foresight, possibly. I like Vox. I like photography. It's just timing too.
So, here I be, posting and joining. I spend a lot of time doing such things.
It is Friday. The setting sun is shining through my open front door. Just a slight cool breeze is filtering through.
I'm looking at my largest lion fish - he knows it's time to eat and he hangs out in the right corner of the fishtank.
That's his dwarf buddy kinda keeping his distance.
They're both stingers. They eat other small fish and shrimp.
I did a few things in the garden today, making sure aphids and rot spots have been treated. Gardening is wonderful therapy.
At my age, with time speeding by, I look for ways to feel satisfied with life and the things I do... hobbies especially.
But also spending time with family. That takes a little bit of traveling on my part. Family is on both coasts.
An occasional out-of-character activity beckons me too.
Like motorscootering. Just the last 2 months. Newbie. But it is fun. I fell on it before making it a trike. Now, I have no worries. Maybe one day I'll get back on a two-wheeler, but for now I'm lovin' this! It's a blast.
And writing. Ever since I could make words in between the dashed lines in elementary school, I could speak volumes on paper, unlike anything I could speak from my mouth. So this posting and article writing is also wonderful therapy.
S'gooooood!
