Water
Tim and Meghan had their first preview Sunday afternoon, and it went well enough that the director gave them the night off. We headed to the lake.
Meghan's not-boyfriend Byron is staying at a house on Lake Jordan. The back porch has a wooden staircase down to the dock, where a motor boat and a pontoon boat rest in their moorings. We took the pontoon boat out, putting aimlessly across the water. Various excursions down inlets and rivers yielded discussion of jumping from bridges (one spanned the river 80 feet above, over a river depth of 30 feet. No thanks.) and watching a young water boarder do back flips in boat wake.
The weather was perfect. We started out during early evening, and as the sun set, the clouds lit up in orange, and we drifted in the middle of the lake. The boat had a CD player, and Bryon played a mix CD he made as we dove into the water and floated on life jackets. We listened to the music float cross the lake and relaxed in the 83-degree water (that sounds hot, but it was perfect).
All weekend--probably due to skipping tennis--I felt low. Even skimming across the lake, wind whipping through my hair, I still felt tight bands constricting my chest, and a ball of dread in my stomach. I couldn't lose them, and I felt terrible, not being able to be fully present and enjoy the beautiful gift of an unexpected evening with Tim and friends in a blissful place.
But once I hit the water, everything melted away. After our first foray into the water, Meghan and Byron stayed on the boat, and we jumped back in, wanting to give them some privacy to talk, and wanting time for ourselves, too. Tim and I bobbed in the water, not ever wanting to leave.
(My hands are still water-wrinkled, two days later.)
When darkness fell, we headed in, and went for ice cream at a corner store a few miles away in Slapout.
The Boy's Store in Slapout, Alabama, is lit by the blinking yellow caution light that signifies the one intersection in town. It is a gas station, grocery, hardware, and bait store, and it's open to the late hour of 9 p.m. on Sunday night. Tim was enchanted with the tee-shirts, so we bought one, and a beer cozy, that said, "I'd rather be in Slapout!" We took our ice cream back to the house, and ate it laying on the dock, watching for shooting stars.
It was a break from reality. I can't wait to go out there again.
Meghan's not-boyfriend Byron is staying at a house on Lake Jordan. The back porch has a wooden staircase down to the dock, where a motor boat and a pontoon boat rest in their moorings. We took the pontoon boat out, putting aimlessly across the water. Various excursions down inlets and rivers yielded discussion of jumping from bridges (one spanned the river 80 feet above, over a river depth of 30 feet. No thanks.) and watching a young water boarder do back flips in boat wake.
The weather was perfect. We started out during early evening, and as the sun set, the clouds lit up in orange, and we drifted in the middle of the lake. The boat had a CD player, and Bryon played a mix CD he made as we dove into the water and floated on life jackets. We listened to the music float cross the lake and relaxed in the 83-degree water (that sounds hot, but it was perfect).
All weekend--probably due to skipping tennis--I felt low. Even skimming across the lake, wind whipping through my hair, I still felt tight bands constricting my chest, and a ball of dread in my stomach. I couldn't lose them, and I felt terrible, not being able to be fully present and enjoy the beautiful gift of an unexpected evening with Tim and friends in a blissful place.
But once I hit the water, everything melted away. After our first foray into the water, Meghan and Byron stayed on the boat, and we jumped back in, wanting to give them some privacy to talk, and wanting time for ourselves, too. Tim and I bobbed in the water, not ever wanting to leave.
(My hands are still water-wrinkled, two days later.)
When darkness fell, we headed in, and went for ice cream at a corner store a few miles away in Slapout.
The Boy's Store in Slapout, Alabama, is lit by the blinking yellow caution light that signifies the one intersection in town. It is a gas station, grocery, hardware, and bait store, and it's open to the late hour of 9 p.m. on Sunday night. Tim was enchanted with the tee-shirts, so we bought one, and a beer cozy, that said, "I'd rather be in Slapout!" We took our ice cream back to the house, and ate it laying on the dock, watching for shooting stars.
It was a break from reality. I can't wait to go out there again.
posted by LE at 8:02 AM
1 Comments:
sounds like heaven el....
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