V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N, Vacation, Vacation, Vacation!

The perk of being a teacher. Sometimes you have to work during those vacations, but the winter one is usually a break I actually VE-GE-TATE for the entire time. Usually I make plans to go South with the birds and spend time relaxing on a Mexican beach. This year, however, I needed to save money and opted to stay around town.

The first day of my break entailed two tasks - run off the delicious, but heavy tempura I had last night for dinner and take my car to the shop. I decided to combine those tasks and run home from the car place. It was approximately 3.8 miles back to my house, but I wanted to make it a little longer. I ended up on the wrong road and eventually found myself in the middle of some beautiful redwoods on a one lane road. It was surreal given that only 20 minutes sooner I had been on a busiest street in town. It was soon very apparent that it was a PRIVATE ROAD. I kept running thinking perhaps they really didn't mean me - a lowly runner - and that really the road actually did meet up on the other side or with some other road. I really didn't want to turn back, given the holiday pounds were actually making running sort of taxing. Finally I got to the sign that said "Private Road, Please cooperate," this time with pictures: no dogs, no runners, no bikes. Oh. You do mean me. So I turned around and by this time the drizzly rain started. Fortunately, redwoods make great umbrellas. An hour and a half later (there was lots of walking involved,) I arrived home. Then, it started to rain harder.

I wish I lived on a private road in a little farmhouse with a glorious garden of home-grown vegetables. California is a strange place. You can go from urban to mountains or rural in no time. I remember my trip up to the Yolla Bolly and thinking the same thing.

But really, they can not possibly mean me. I mean, I share their love of the gorgeous redwoods, of the quiet mountain space, pounding the highway in the drizzly rain, quaint gardens, smoke streaming from chimneys. I am one of them, do they not understand. I am not there to disrupt their place. Private drive. Hmph! Bite me. I am going to put a sign on my driveway too that says private drive. Maybe the neighbors lame friends will stop parking their noisy, stinky cars under my bedroom window. Alas.

Oh, yeah, SUCKERS, I am on vacation for 20 more days. He. He. He.