Ah, the weekend. It is within my grasp. Or perhaps it is grasping me. Somebody is getting felt up, is what I'm saying.
We started our weekend in our classic way, with a meeting of the Dubarry Drunks. Crackers and cheese and wine and chatting. I realize that it is trite, but I really like it. There isn't anything I would rather do but sit with my family and neighbors and watch the world go by.
Tomorrow I'll go get Pluto his pedicure, which he won't appreciate, and then we will pick up a bushel of crabs and a whole lot of hush puppies, and we will party Maryland style. (The beer is already cooling.) And then after that? A whole lot of slack. If I don't get a nap this weekend, I will be extremely disappointed. And unrested.
The only active thing I plan to do is strap on my backpack and hike the Billygoat Trail in my trail shoes. I figure that this will tell me both how my back is doing and how well suited my trail runners are to hiking on rocks. The Billygoat Trail has rocks'a'plenty. Generally it also has too many families who should probably be on an easier trail, but I'm hoping if I get out there right around dawn, I should pretty much have the trail to myself. Or to myself and DeLee, if she is feeling up to an early morning clamber.
Oh, and I made an appointment with a neurosurgeon's physician's assistant. Wish me luck that she knows something about backpacking. Or horseback riding. Sedentary people do not have the first clue about what bodies can or should do, under normal or abnormal conditions. I went to see a podiatrist years ago who normally treated eighty year olds, and honestly he could not have been less suited to treat somebody who actually walked.
Anyway, I'm hoping for the best. Cheers!
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