I’m home from the rendevous in Illinois with my friend K. It was beyond wonderful. The friends that introduced us to each other back in 1983 called us “the twins”, and it’s still true. It’s not appearance, it’s purely psychic. But as the innkeeper of the B&B we stayed in put it, talking to the two of us was like having a conversation with one person speaking in relays.
And we did talk. We stayed up until 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning every night. Mind, K. had been concerned that as much as we’ve been on the phone and e-mail recently on a collaberative project, we might have little enough left to say in person. Wrong. Very wrong. We barely shut up for three days. There were points we were both sprawled on the floor with our eyes closed because it would have taken toothpicks to keep them open, still talking. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun over a weekend. And the project? Let’s just say we’ll be working on the research from what we cooked up for months.
The embarassing moment came early in the visit. I knew I was excited about the trip, but I realized how much so when I got to Champaign. K. walked out to the van to help me get my stuff up to our room, which was in the former 3rd floor servant’s quarters of a Victorian mansion. I got my laptop and other stuff, and then started poking under seats and such, much to K.’s bewilderment. Finally, I reached the inescapable conclusion that I had indeed forgotten my suitcase. I remembered the wine, the glasses, my laptop, my crocheting and other assorted odds and ends, but completely forgot my suitcase. When we got done laughing about that, we went on an expedition to the nearest retail emporium, where I purchased such necessities as underwear, clothing and a toothbrush. K. is going to be teasing me about this one for at least the next 40 years. I can see it coming.
In the end, the two things I missed out of my suitcase were my camera and my walking shoes. I had reasonably practical sandals, but they weren’t quite up to rugged state park trails with as much vertical as horizontal. At one point I told K., who was just bouncing with excitement, to go ahead and finish the trail I couldn’t do in those dratted sandals and that I would meet her back at the trail head. She did. I went back slowly, looking at interesting fungal formations and moving as quietly as I am able, and was rewarded by walking around a bend to come nose-to-nose with a doe and her fawn. There was a fair amount of startlement on both sides, but it was a very cool experience. The doe bounced away, but the fawn was just as intrigued and enchanted by this strange creature (me) as I was with it, so we stood and looked at each other for a solid five minutes before it realized that mama was nowhere in sight and ran off to look for her. Most people advise that one should not get into a staring match with a cat. I would have to say a staring match with a fawn is equally problematic. Oh, but I wanted that camera in my hand! Attempted teleportation did not work, however, and it stayed resolutely in the suitcase rejoicing on the floor of my bedroom at home.
It was very much the weekend of the deer. We went to state parks both Saturday and Sunday. Every trail had tracks, and we saw no less than three bands of deer in addition to the pair I startled. They were aware of us, but didn’t run far. The fawns reminded me of nothing so much as our own little boys (hers is 7 months older than mine), bouncing around the adults and playing tag in the meadow. It was beyond cool.
I was pleased with myself as well. I’d no trouble with the long flights of stairs up to our private little eyrie, and walked about 5 miles each day without anything other than my feet (which I walked to blisters) filing a single complaint. I could no more have done that a year ago this time than fly, so I’m happy. I was a little slower than I’m accustomed to being, but that’s a small thing. The big one was actually doing what I thought I should be able to do. On balance, I’m way ahead.
So now I get to go back to the legal salt-mines, mentally much refreshed. Tally ho!