I Have Run Away From Home

No, seriously.

First things first. Middle of April, I took both vehicles (again) into the Mechanic's (again). Long story short, got a quote of $1000 to replace a year-old fuel pump on the Jaguar...Although they didn't know if that was the problem and they claimed they couldn't test it ahead of time. Had to replace it to find out if it was the problem (sounds like O-care. But I digress.) They also wanted $200 to replace a part on the Durango that had been replaced before. Yeah.

I had an absolute meltdown. Stomping, swearing, threatening... The works. Got in the car, drove to the nearest new car lot, and traded both vehicles in on a 2017 RAV4. I hate, hate, hate buying cars on credit, but the two we owned (and our mechanic) were nickel and dimeing us into the poorhouse.

So I ran away from home. Right onto the Appalachian Trail.

The three of us are doing a shake-down hike this week. Starting next week, Arabella and I will be walking south for the next several months, headed for Springer Mountain, Georgia. Google has decided that it can't "verify" my account, so pictures and such will have to wait until Blogger straightens up.

So, checking in. I've run away from home like the good, responsible adult I am. (And you can't deny walking does NOT use fuel ration points!),


What We've Lost

Two poems, Two Hollywood entertainers, 35 years apart:

Jimmy Stewart, WW2 AND Vietnam veteran, Brigadier General, Movie star, all-around great guy. Republican.
Ashley Judd, Actress, Activist. Democrat.

"Yes, life has a glitter now--of a sort. That's what's wrong with it. The old days had no glitter but they had a charm, a beauty, a slow-paced glamour."
    Ashley Wilkes to Scarlett O'Hara, Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell's timeless classic and a book everyone should read at least once in their lifetime.



I've not been posting because, frankly, I just couldn't. It was too much.

Recipe for depression:
Get sick for almost three weeks, missing the Christmas Dinner and Concert that I had been looking forward to for months. Add in the standard holiday chaos, mix in the ongoing car problems (we're down to one not-so-reliable car, so I'm stuck. At home. All. The. Time. Couldn't even go to church for Christmas.), stir in allergies deciding to flare up (no dairy, eggs, wheat, or corn until my guts settle down and decide to play nice.), beat in a hefty dollop of the divisiveness of the election...and to all that, fold in Danny trying to meet a deadline to get the first draft of his book submitted, so he's been unavailable at best and...hmmm, "grumpy", let's go with "grumpy"...at worst. Garnish with cold, dreary, rainy, grey days...and mud. Lots of mud. Guaranteed to sap the joy right out of living. Usually results in constant exhaustion and the inability to concentrate on anything.

I keep telling myself that I have no reason to be depressed. Lots of people have it much worse than the minor inconveniences I've mentioned above. Heck, I'VE had much worse than that, many times before. Usually when I start feeling down, I'll do the whole "Smile REAL BIG and Fake it 'til you make it" thing and wait for the darkness to pass.

Isn't working this time.

I know things are not that bad, that it is just my perception that is the problem. I know that these problems will be resolved and eventually the sun has to come out. But even knowing that, depression keeps whispering, "You're wrong. Things will never get better." After a while, arguing against the whispers gets to be too much to bear.

I keep telling myself depression lies...I'm just having trouble believing myself.



Sicker 'n a dog. Back soon.


75 Years

A Date which will Live in Infamy
More photos at link.