Howdy,
So, yesterday I didn’t get a blog post up, as you may know. I will make no excuses on this (this time), because there are methods for looking ahead, working ahead, and scheduling entries ahead.
Ah, the wonders of the Internet, and, in a pinch, cell service. However, yesterday I wasn’t scheduled ahead, and I didn’t have Internet, and I didn’t have cell reception (though in all but the remotest of times—places [or unless you have AT&T, apparently]—one could usually sacrifice his space and moment on a mountain and descend back into the ranges of cellular towers). We were camping, enjoying company (actually, we visited as company to those who graciously invited us to join their 25-year-or-so tradition of family and friends campout getaway and hangout.
But we were out of range for AT&T.
I’ve sort of been on the run and out of range since the start of Memorial Day Weekend. Listen to this: May 26-28, camping with The Rock Church near Yosemite National Park and included a trip to Yosemite; June 1-6, Santa Cruz, first as brothers trip and then second half with my Fam; June 11, threw Riah Surf’s first birthday party; June 12-13, took the boys up to Mariposa to visit Epa and Grandma and get extra time with Uncle Casey who was north for awhile (also providing Sarah a bit of a solo retreat); June 14-17, three and a half hour family trip to Los Molinos to visit my dad at Uncle Donnie’s on the Sacramento River, which we employed greatly to beat the heat; and June 18-20, Father’s Day and camping in Long Barn at Pinecrest Lake; and (again), believe it or not, I feel like I’m forgetting stuff—all those gaps in dates.
I don’t know that I’ve ever, EVER, had a stretch quite like that. Sure, I’ve been on extended trips that may have been longer in total (maybe?), but I’m wondering if I’ve, in my lifetime, piled on “vacations”/camping/excursions/etc. in succession as we have these last three-plus weeks. Jet setting like we’re hopping movies over the course of a scorching day (which I’ve never done—but sounded like amazingly endless possibilities when I was a kid and like it would never happen: which it hasn’t). Speaking of scorching days—no, we won’t talk about the heated days in recent times of temperature torture; it’s tough enough that we have to endure, that we should have to rehash and reflect on it here. I mean, 85, 90 degrees in Pinecrest, dipping in the frigid, fresh-ice-melt lake from the sandy beach hosting scattered, but massive, swatches of giant, mountain pines shadow is almost unbearable.
Actually, it is. When you slip, and think for a moment about having to return to the valley for that 20-plus degree jump, and that definite, palpable drop in energy and zest for the outdoors.
But as far as missing yesterday’s post and falling further off my word count pace, it was worth it. Besides, I feel like I wrote my part on Monday, since I started typing this fresh-aired draft sitting in a lawn chair in the dark at 4:30 in the morning night—after stirring from my sleeping bag at the mid-night call of one-year-old Riah at 3:17 a.m. and Pocket Rocket-boiling (heating, backpacking style) not one but two bottles and changing a diaper on the wooden bench of the picnic table. Ah, the joys of tent camping with young kids.
I love it; my life is good. It’s the best.
Sitting here—on Monday night—writing my post, the lone “happy camper” (see comedian Jim Gaffigan) awake, sensing the Tuesday-morning sun lightening up the surrounding nature; I can now, without my GQ-headlamp (it’s the look!, trust me) make out the lines and flakes in the scaly bark of the pine trees standing by keeping me company, while reaching up green boughs in praise of their God and Creator. “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork” (Psalm 19:1), “And all the trees of the field shall know that I am the LORD” (Ezekiel 17: 24a).
Guess I won’t need my black and orange (Go Giants! [Can anyone hear me?! What’s going on?!]) headlamp to start reading my book after all. Just to change diapers, make bottles, and escape the heat—all without the Internet. Something I’ll need to get used to, yo.
—Billy
Reading. Writing. Living.
P.S. Posting this, the ending with “yo” after all the nature seemed somewhat unnatural, but someday when you hear more about our Internet scenario maybe I’ll harken back to this and the unsettling nature of it may make more sense … Maybe.
Word Count: 129,721 / On Pace: 135,850 / Year’s Goal: 200,000
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