I practice slow living, shared plates, and small travel. To those ends, we took a little getaway trip to Lexington, Virginia this past weekend. We stopped at small towns and cities along the way – Orange, Gordonsville, and Charlottesville. With no plans or schedule, we enjoyed each moment. We shopped independent bookstores and thrift shops. We ate at The Red Hen for farm to table fine dining. We read favorite novels in queen-sized beds in the hotel. We walked miles taking pictures for the joy of it.
Time away gives perspective. Sometimes it’s the perspective that there is no place like home, and other times it’s the perspective that I am off track in some way.
Looking down on the hotel pool, I realized I can’t remember the last time I wore a bathing suit. How many years has it been? I think I do not like to swim, but maybe I’ve just convinced myself this is so.
Oh, my God. What if you wake up some day, and you're 65 or 75, and you never got your novel or memoir written; or you didn't go swimming in warm pools or oceans because your thighs were jiggly or you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It's going to break your heart. Don't let this happen. ~ Anne Lamott