There was a parks department picnic at Spencer's Butte when I was about six. I'm sure there were all sorts of healthy things to eat, but I went for the cupcakes, cookies and pop, and ended up tossing it all in the bushes and spending the rest of the evening lying on the back seat of the car feeling sorry for myself.
A billion years later, on the last morning of two glorious back-to-back vacations, I woke with that ominous feeling. It wasn't going to be a very good day, and I had a couple of hours of driving before I could pull the covers up over my head.
The irony this time was that I had eaten wisely, exercised and slept well, and drinking? OK, I'd had two glasses of wine instead of one some nights - not exactly a binge. No, this was a bug. My cousin's wife fell to it first, and then my cousin the next day. They blamed the crab. But what they ate on the way to the hotel didn't cause my malaise.
Did that take the glow off the week? No, siree! We stuffed enough fun into those seven days that I'd do it all over again - next year.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment