Attempting Something New

Yesterday I sold my flowered '92 Camry on Craigs List.(see photo below) About twenty people were interested within minutes of my posting, three of them fiercely so. I felt as if I were suddenly defending a dissertation (not that I really know what that feels like.)

The experience was a bit agitating because I know nothing about cars, could answer none of the questions, and wondered if I'd set the price too low. Also, I'd done no Craig List commerce and didn't know what to expect.

By the time Husband Bob picked me up at my office to go home, I felt as if I'd successfully climbed one of the world's great mountains. The car was gone, and the cash was in my pocketbook. The fact that I'd also done some work on a novel was nothing compared to the feeling of satisfaction at having managed something I hadn't done before.

So I'm reminded once again: It's worth doing new things, large or small, if only for the adventure and sense of accomplishment -- both for making the effort and for any smidgen of success.



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The Ultimate Adventure

My writing group is showing its age, as one of our number pointed out last week. The group has been meeting on Thursday afternoons for 26 years and we weren't kids when we started.

Recently one of the gang said she would in the future be coming only very occasionally. She has a serious chronic ailment that limits her mobility. Another has a pacemaker and continuing heart trouble. One wears hearing aids. Yet another has some surgery scheduled for Monday and I had a round of that myself a few years ago.

We range in age now from 51 to 71, and have been lucky so far. No deaths. No malignancies unless you count a wee skin cancer, which I don't (and it was mine, so I get to decide.) I'm 60 and have dodged all large bullets so far.

It's a truism that "old age is not for sissies." No kidding. Getting old is an adventure of the tallest sort. Much more dangerous than rock-climbing, for example. Harder to beat than any casino.

I don't want to rush it, of course. I do have a sense of calling here on Earth, to tell particular stories. I know that's grandiose, but it helps me plan my time. I'd like to get further along with my assignment before having to quit. I'd also like a bestseller or two, but that's a different adventure.

The important thing about the aging adventure so far is that it's a team sport, much better done with friends. My writing group, which BTW has produced quite a good pile of good books with more to come, is "in it for the long haul," including any who have to come only occasionally. I'm proud of this bold set of pals.

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A Ten-Adventure Weekend

Just back from a 3-day weekend to the NC mountains and then to the Charlotte area with husband Bob. The itinerary was determined by two things he had in mind to do: go to a black-belt testing in Blowing Rock and then see some dogs at the home of a breeder who raises the same kind of exotic mastiffs he now has. (8 month old Aura is a Boerboel, which is a South African breed.)

My agenda was to hike in the mountains (that was Saturday) and to paddle my kayak in Lake Norman, the largest lake in the state, near Charlotte (that was Sunday). Today we had a spontaneous retail adventure in an Ikea, the bold Swedish business innovator that sells home and office stuff like nobody else in the world. I'd been to one once, Bob never had.

That worked out to three adventures for me, and four for Bob, and one more for each of us, if you count the rather intense conversation we had for an hour while waiting for check-in time at the Lake Norman Motel, Restaurant, and Marina to be ready. And possibly one more, if you count skidding in with minutes to spare in time for Bob to run his 5:30 psychotherapy group.

The number of adventures is my test of an excellent vacation. And it occurred to me this weekend that I could start looking at regular days that way as well.

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