2010 Progress

I like the way Brits say the word "progress." Not PRAH-gress, but PRO-gress. It adds a certain weight and air of authority when pronounced that way. In fact, I generally like the way they pronounce everything (except, perhaps, "aluminum" and "schedule"). Thus, I invite you to read the rest of this post in a British accent.  

[NOTE: I watched an episode of Red Dwarf earlier this evening, which may or may not have had something to do with this particular whim.]

Admittedly, as far back as I can remember, every January I have made resolutions for the New Year. Then a few months into the year, I lapse by doing one or both of the following:

1) Forgetting what they are; or
2) Ignoring them altogether.

I think this is because year after year, I resolved to accomplish things that were either cliché or absurd. In short, I was a complete and total git about it.

For example, "lose weight" has been on the list every year since I was 14. I think two of the years since then I actually did lose weight, but not because of my commitment to my New Year's goals. It was just a handy coincidence.

That particular goal did not make the 2010 list.

This January, I once again made some resolutions. However this time, I actually put quite a lot of thought into the five goals I conceived for myself. A few were a bit challenging and a couple were not. The difference this year is that I wrote them down and have referred back to them on several occasions over the past six months.

Now that 2010 is half over (*GASP!*), it's time to assess PROgress.

I must admit that I am quite pleased with myself. To date, I can check two things off the list. A third involves a test of will against a particular culinary temptation, which I won't be able to check off until midnight on 1 January 2011. But so far, I haven't given in. The other two are relatively attainable and I am confident I can "git 'er done," as the Americans say at wrestling matches and the like.

What a splendid feeling this is! How refreshing! I did not set myself up for failure, nor did I get namby-pamby with my goals.

Now, as I proGRESS toward the remainder of my goals, I can do so with the satisfaction that I have already exceeded any and all accomplishments I have set for myself in prior years.

And that, dear friends, is PROgress.

That'll learn me

It seems I have received my comeuppance. See, in my last blog post, I commented on how Robb & I would have to get our fill of nature during our weekend at Philpott Lake because we'd be spending the following weekend at Shenandoah National Park with three little kids who were sure to scare away any and all signs of wildlife with their rowdiness.

HA!

Reality couldn't have been any more blatantly ironic. After winding through random rural roads, over the river and through the woods, Robb & I finally arrived at the Salthouse Branch campground at Philpott Lake (near Fairy Stone State Park). It was indeed beautiful; the campsites were arranged on terraced loops overlooking the lake and the woods were thick and green.

And then, there were the rebel flags. And rebel yells.

Ah yes, it seems that Philpott Lake is a haven for redneck weekenders. (And I'm only using this term because the people there proudly proclaimed themselves as such.) Noisy trucks, mullets, grubby chubby children, confederate flags, cigarettes, beer bottles, hootin' & hollerin' filled our weekend. The only thing missing were gunshots.

Robb and I were lulled to sleep our first night by the sound of our neighbors --
a father and son spending some quality time together for Father's Day weekend. This invovled drinking, cussing, guffawing, and then wretching until 2 a.m. What better way to say, "I love you," then to holler "DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!" at your dear ol' dad as he is bent over puking his guts out.

I won't elaborate on the rest of our weekend there, but suffice it to say everything was beautiful, except the people. We saw no deer, no birds, no wild animals at all, except for squirrels chasing each other through the treetops and vultures circling overhead. Appropriate.

Our next weekend at Loft Mountain, however, couldn't have been more pleasant. The boys were eager to help and learn and the baby was a happy camper (sorry, couldn't resist). Deer, rabbits, birds and butterflies were plentiful, as were the black raspberries. The weather was warm but comfortable and our mostly-secluded campsites backed up to the woods.

We went on a nature discovery hike with Ranger Georgette (with whom Caleb, the future biologist, instantly bonded) and Nathan was busy helping build campfires and naming boulders (here he is at right, standing on "Kid Mountain"). Eleanor toddled and giggled and picked raspberries. At the risk of speaking for Bill and Jennifer, I think they had a pretty good time themselves. Robbie & I definitely did.

All this to say, touché! Lesson learned! 

The Pattersons at Loft Mountain