Around the Next Redwood Tree

[Not much got accomplished this week, but I feel like I was rode hard and put away wet. Isn't summer vacation supposed to be restful? I bring it on myself of course - the downtown apt. has turned into Crash-Pad Central for an odd assortment of people in various transitional stages of their lives, and John and I are only too happy to return some of the good karma from which we benefited when we moved to San Francisco. Seems like there's always someone around, though.]

[We're escaping the madness this weekend, or perhaps exchanging one flavor for another: tomorrow, we rent a car (ah, Dollar, our loyalty never wavers) and drive up to the Russian River. Oddly enough, we're not going to do one "gay thing" while we're there. Instead, we'll be camping and canoeing with my parents for a couple of days. I think a day or two away from the city's madding whirl will do us good.]

[Except for one night at the appallingly crowded El Capitan State Park with Rafe and Antonio a half-dozen years ago, I haven't been camping since I got my Eagle. I get the feeling Burke's, where the tent will be pitched, really doesn't count: I remember sneering at "car camping." Those days seem a long time ago, and I come back to my "roughin' it" dilemma: I did so much of it when I was a kid, I find it hard to imagine what new things I will learn. City life, while occasionally an exasperating grind, always feels like it offers something new right around the corner.]

[Still, the family's always fun, and maybe I can get back a little of that serenity I used to feel in the redwoods. A little serenity sounds good right now.]

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