I wouldn’t totally consider myself a thrill-seeker, I’ve never jumped out of an airplane or dangled from a bungie cord. I have however, knowingly walked out of the house without my 28 oz water bottle just to see what it felt like to live on the edge. For me and my neuroses, a short 20 minute trip clearly requires a water bottle. A two hour trip, now we’re talking gallons of water in bottles, that frustratingly don’t fit into any of my cup holders.
I feel like I have too much at stake to be a real adrenaline junkie, instead I’ll opt for the diluted Mom version. It’s comical really, the things that make me feel like I am WILD. I will drive around with my hot coffee in a regular mug, not a travel mug, just a plain ol’ open coffee cup, hoping for the best. Mind you, I have more travel mugs than I can count, so my choice to allow my coffee to slosh, is simply for the thrill of it. If someone puts the toilet paper roll on the wrong side, I’ll leave it. I’ll say “surprise me” when a friend or bartender hands me a white claw out of the variety pack. I’ll run an errand without penciling in my eyebrows. I’ll continue singing and dancing with the windows down while I roll up to a stop light, sure to be judged by the cars around me. Sometimes, I’ll even eat a burger with a bun. This summer I switched from cypress mulch to southern oak mulch, site unseen, like only a real baddie could. Sometimes, I won’t stretch before a workout. I’ll snuggle my big white dog, while wearing black leggings. I’ll order something different at a restaurant instead of sticking with my usual. I’ll do a ride with a different Peloton instructor. I take morning walks without my phone. I’ll pull weeds without gloves knowing damn well I’ll instantly regret it. Clearly, I’m a real dare-devil that can’t be tamed.
But the thing is, is that I am an adventure-seeker. I feel like I have enough wits, combined with my farm girl sense of direction that allow me to engage in a low key wildness that fills my soul. I generally know just enough to turn things into an adventure without being reckless. A few weeks ago, Glenn and I drove to Chicago for a concert without a real plan of where to park or exactly where to enter the pavilion. After years of training, begrudgingly, Glenn now plays along with my “I know where to go” antics, even though it drives the control freak in him crazy. I knew just enough to eventually get us where we needed to go. Sure, we walked the wrong way at first because they were rerouting all concert goers to another entrance, if I would have googled I would have known that. Had I googled though, it would have taken all the fun out and we would have never had a chance to see the old hippy chick in low rise jeans, circle sunglasses, and a newsboy cap. We later saw her dancing alone without abandon down by the stage, totally jamming like no one was watching. That little detour was worth it. I don’t want to take away any opportunities by planning out every detail. Impromptu fun is the best kind, but it requires totally letting go.
I suppose the restlessness within me is the reason that I like to travel. I feel connected to Illinois so don’t plan on moving any time soon, I like the familiarity and the roots. I like that I can walk around town and people tell me that I must be “Hogue’s daughter” because I look just like my mother. I like that I can wander into a neighborhood cemetery and discover the graves of my Great-Great Grandparents, like I did last Father’s Day (the first Father’s Day without my father). We live next door to my in-laws and watching the kids run back and forth for popsicles is the stuff memories are made of. Illinois is our home but traveling is a pillar of our happiness. Our time traveling in our RV and homeschooling during the weird ass COVID year will be a wild memory in our family forever. The grandeur of the Carmens along the Rio Grand River at Big Bend National Park is imprinted in my heart. The wild horse crossing the river, meandering from the banks of Mexico to the US is a moment shared with our family that we will recount for the rest of our lives. It serves our soul to explore, to be open, yet also acknowledging the safety and importance of a home base we love. My Grandma would tell Glenn and I that she loves that “we don’t let the grass grow under our feet”. I love exploring new places and cultures with it’s newness at every turn. The endless opportunity for fun, learning, and growth seem ever present when you are somewhere you haven’t been before.
This weekend we took a family camping trip to Blue Mound State Park in Wisconsin. Ask Glenn or I, it was incredible. Ask the kids, namely Pearl, it sucked. At one point when we found ourselves on a mountain bike trail in the middle of the woods, several miles from our campsite, I heard her mumble “I wish I had different parents”. Bode on the other hand appreciates the work of physical movement and the feeling you get when you accomplish a hard hill on a bicycle or when you can get from one side of the monkey bars to the other. Gus, well he just complains and whines about almost everything. We’re hoping he will grow out of it but since I continue to baby him, he probably won’t 😝.
Our little getaway and all the adventures it held; bike riding, nature trails, stalagmites & stalactites at the Cave of the Mounds, campfires, antiquing and eating at Finks Cafe in the Trollway Capital of Mount Horeb, identifying potentially poisonous caterpillars (the Banded Tussock) was good for the soul whether the kids acknowledge it now or when they are my age. The kids did a fair share of complaining and fighting but deep down I know they are happy to have “fun” parents who take them off on travels to experience new places. I joke that the Manning way is the hard way, and today on Pokerville trail we lived our motto. They should just be thankful we didn’t take them on Holy Schist trail.
I also really dig doing things alone. I love my friends and family but there are moments that allow for surrender when I’m by myself. I can reflect, recount memories, sort through problems, notice the small things around me, and feel gratitude in a more powerful way. We recently took a trip with some friends and I had an experience where I took off on a paddle board by myself. I think I made some of them nervous but it felt incredible to be able to have an adventure without anyone to guide me or need me for guidance (I’m talking to you my dear family). It was just me, no kids complaining, no phone, no water bottle, just me with a single oar. So much fun was had in our group on that trip, but that was one of my favorite parts. It was so relaxing to paddle to the middle of the inlet and just be. It’s the same feeling I get when I set off on a long hike. Wandering around in the woods, without engaging my core or trying to keep a certain pace. I just totally vibe and chill as I walk to nowhere in particular. It’s a low-risk adventure, but an adventure none-the-less. In fact, everything is an adventure if we treat it as such. I watch the kids pretend that the floor is lava or that the pool vac is a sea monster, what if adults could approach little things in life with those same open-hearts and wide-eyes. Really, it’s about staying thirsty for all that life has to offer. It’s so easy to get into our routines and stay there but why not shake things up a little. It feeds our creative side, and that’s important.
When I was a kid I had a green block quilt that my great aunt Mary made me. I took “him” everywhere. His name was Malcolm and he got me through the hard times. The divorce, the yelling, the remarriage, more yelling, the moving, then moving again, and again. Malcolm was there when I didn’t make the cut as a Milton Pope cheerleader (when literally everyone makes the team because there were 16 people in my class). Now as a 40 year old Mom of 3, assumed hydration in shape of a water bottle is my new safety blanky.
Still, there are times when I’m sowing my prickly oats and say fuck it Sis, go ahead and cruise around with Stick Figure blaring, without a single refillable to speak of.
mpoweredstate 