Crying Over Burnt Waffles

   Losing one's job in a blaze of surprising glory has its perks.

    On Friday I found myself a huntress who not only no longer had a job but could be brought to hysterical tears at any moment. In order to anesthetize the sting of being jobless, I partied hard during the weekend and hoped that Monday would never come.  Unfortunately, I have no baring on the earth's revolutions so the dreaded day did indeed rear its menacing, ugly head.  Dusk broke and I woke up just as I had in the past.  Around seven I let the dogs out then started to get ready.  It was only when I heard the toaster oven's DING did I realize- I don't have a job to wake up for.  I crawled into bed and cried.

    Startled by my sudden teary reaction to everything , DU consoled me and told me that he'd go get breakfast; there was no need to cry over a burnt waffle.  As I cried harder and blubbered about Mrs. Butterworth's job as a pancake icon, DU decided it was high time to take action. He contacted my Dad who owns a house in the Adirondack mountains of New York.  Knowing that I love all that is Fourth Lake, DU figured getting out for a little while was the perfect antidote for my woes.

   There may have been some method to his thinking, as we had an absolute blast.

  The stories are too many to tell, which of course means I'll do my best to re-create them here. However, I find it prudent to employ some visual aids so as to paint a perfect picture inside of your creative imagination.  If I don't, then I'll risk saying something like the "snow was over my head" and for a skeptical reader to look at the screen, scratch his nose (or whatever appendage is either itchy or habitually scratched when he does not agree with something) before stating, "No it wasn't".  In my perfect world,  I would appear next to Mr. Nose Scratcher Know-It-All, slap his hand away from his face and yell, "YES IT WAS!".  Since I haven't invented a way to teleport or eavesdrop on every reader's audible comments to one of my posts without going to jail, I'm going to put up pictures of my trip to avoid having to figure either out. 

    The stories shall come but as for now, dearest reader, allow me to transform my blog into a picture-book of sorts.


  On a snowy day in February, I adventured to the magical land of Fourth Lake to escape the pain of everyday life.


   The snow was over my head

(It really was!)

          and I had to battle with a giant to get across the bridge that took me to the beautiful mountains known as the Adirondacks.

   After reigning victorious over the treacherous beast, I flew down railroad tracks to get to camp.  

  Once I was there, I was shocked at what I found.

  There were deer who are content with hanging out on walls for years. 

  Dogs who can fly. 

  Other dogs who don't walk but leap like gazelles through the snow.

  Shoes that have thrown themselves up and over electrical lines for no reason whatsoever.

   Lakes full of crisscrossed tracks which go nowhere.

  Resorts that can only be reached by boat, snowmobile or foot...

   inhabited by the most content of recluses.

The most perfect Christmas tree known to mankind. 

   

Ice-cold, refreshing beverages crafted from the hands of Canadian gods.

  Lamp posts which stand in a frozen tundra waiting to guide someone on their way.

   And strange rocks that jump on top of one another, hoping to find a way out of the snow.

  I rode my snowmobile until I no longer could see anything except for the whiteness below.  For a fleeting second, I entertained the idea to become a hermit myself.  I'd pitch a tent right there in the snow and fend of the land for the rest of my days.  Life had been hard as of late, I told myself, I deserve some time off. 

  But as I gazed at the snowy sky, sun broke through the clouds. The snow below turned into valleys of glittering diamonds and I knew I must go back.
 



   Now that I am home and that mythical land is hundreds of miles away, I don't feel any better than when I left.  I'm still lost and have no idea how I'm going to pay my bills.  I thought the solitude of camp would bring me to the peace I've been searching for, but it didn't.  As I sit here, munching on mini-saltines and peanut butter, I'm terrified with the what if's and what will happens that plague my thoughts.  I want to lay in bed all day but the dogs are barking, imploring to be let in out of the cold. Laundry needs to be done, so does the cleaning.

   As bleak as everything looks, I have to remember- there are perks to losing this job of mine.  The scenery, the stories, the fresh air and of course, the opportunity to share it with you.