I have done yoga and meditated/prayed every day out on the deck. I’ve gone for walks through the woods and to the market...jumped in the lake...eaten ice cream...taken all my vitamins...slept in (barely)...spent the majority of my time in my bathing suit... bought birdseed so we could watch the birds and chipmunks outside our window...napped in the hammock...made my famous nachos (given my son lectures on healthy digestion)...made everyone sniff the essential oils I brought and listened to Native American flute music.
On the drive down my son, Ethan told me he tells his friends, “My mom is a total hippie.” At first, I was like...”Psht? You only think that because of the hair.” But as I reflect on my last few days I’m recalculating my earlier assessment. I’m not a traditional hippie. I have better fashion sense than that (although I do on occasion look like Stevie Nicks). You know how there are cowboys and urban cowboys? I guess I’d call an urban hippie a granola...definitely not me. There’s gotta be a better terminology for like “halfway hippie”. That’s it! Halfway Hippie!!!