I love being outside.
I’m sure those who’ve just met me (and some who have known me for years) don’t believe it, but when I was a kid I spent the summer playing in my grandparents’ backyard. My brother and I were the only kids around, but we were company enough; Grampa made us a playhouse way up in the back and we had a ton of toys. And a pool.
People change in their teenage years. In the midst of hormonal misery, I became lazy, and stopped going outside almost entirely. My summer tan turned to year-long pasty whiteness.
Thankfully, I found the sun again.
I love being invited to friends’ cabins. I’ll roam the woods and swim in the lake (even the lake where a leech tried to get me), and I’ll chase spiders and catch toads. My OCD makes me terrified of a lot of things (including wildlife) but it has never been able to completely squash that dirt-loving kid I’ve always been.
The dogs are my everyday excuse to get out and about. Walks and various park excursions keep the humans moving and make the dogs happy. Robbie’s only nine months now, so all this is fairly new to him (since winters around here are too cold for a baby chihuahua). He, too, seems to be loving the outdoors.
And of course, there’s nothing better than sitting on the deck and reading a book in the summer sun. Wear sunscreen though, kids, because sometimes it’s suddenly three hours later and you’ve got a wicked burn.
So you may not believe me when I say I’m the outdoorsy type, because on the surface I’m all city, but I’ll spend my summers in the sun.
I’m staying indoors for the winter though. F*** that noise.