Old dog, same old tricks

Well shit, I did it again. I overdid it. The trouble is, in my head I’m still 19. My body, on the other hand, is 62. In my zeal to get a little camp trailer remodeled and ready for a weekend in the mountains, I missed a chance to go away for a weekend in the mountains. Everything took longer than expected; everything was heavier and I just ran out of gas.

We could have put the wheelchair ramp on the truck and thrown a tent and sleeping bags in the back and I would be there now, drinking in the wilderness...and drinking, in the wilderness. All I really wanted for my birthday was to provide my sweet Wakitu a trip to one of our favorite places in a comfy camper. All she really wanted was to go with me to the mountains on my birthday. She would have gone with me and slept in the dirt, in the rain, with no coffee left if that was what we decided on. She’s done it before. She loves me. We often miss stuff but not very often do we miss stuff cause we are trying to out-nice each other. I can’t possibly compete. She loves me more than I do myself.

The other thing that comes with age is a certain wisdom of when to abandon a plan and make a Plan B. That is what we did. We got the camper done and loaded and realized we would be hustling in the dark to spend one night and one day in the most beautiful place inside of 6 hours from home. That would simply not be good enough. So we’re going to leave everything loaded and locked in the camper and pick another time very soon to go for reals. It’s MY birthday and I can do what I want!

I disappointed myself to be sure. I missed my deadline and old habits die hard. A missed deadline is a fail. I hate failing. I am human though, or so I would have you believe, and we do that. A lot. We also love milestones. Birthdays in particular and, as odd as it is, it is a good time to reflect on your year. Not that you can’t do that on any odd Tuesday of the year. Facebook won’t let you forget. As wonderful as those little reminders are most days, there are the other days... The memories pop up and you remember "Oh I promised myself I was gonna…." And I never did.

I promised myself, and my girl, that I would get the camper done and we’d go for shots at the Ponderosa on my birthday as is our half-assed tradition. We don’t get there every year but I was bound and determined to get there and I let my arrogant old man out and missed the chance. I can do it. I can get it done. I can do this on time… Yeah, no I can’t. At some point, much earlier, I should have accepted my limitations and moved forward. Instead I let myself be distracted by my certain failure as there was no way to get it all done on time. Pushing past the limits of my body when I was younger was a natural course of events. Even recently, building the treehouses, I could push past it a little every day getting just one more thing done before end of day.

Then one day everything changed and my limits got lowered and my brain rebelled and my joie de vivre lifestyle took a huge hit. You should see my house. Like a bomb went off in there. I’ve put off too much stuff to go have fun and I should really buckle down and clean this place top to bottom. Get some yard work done. But now the camper is done and the mountains are calling and I have no doubt I will stop the next project in the middle, pack some steaks and beers in a cooler and find a road with a steep, steep grade with Wakitu laughing beside me as we head for the hills… Altitoodles, my friends! Soon I will be gone.

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