I'll be undergoing a transformation in the next day or two.
I'm going to change from stressed-out teacher and classical-music and literary conoisseur to dirty, stinky, happy-go-lucky woods-woman. I'll trade my grade book for a map, my slacks for a pair of sweaty wicking shorts, my blog for a soggy assignment-pad journal, my Bach for a handful of John Denver tunes in the old noggin.
I have a secret life. It's true. I, Waterfall, am actually a Narnia Dweller. And a hobbit. Conceived in a series of literary discussions at The Eagle and Child pub in Oxford sometime in the middle of the last century. Shhh ... it's my secret. Don't tell.
Or maybe the teaching- and classical-music thing is my secret life. Shh ... don't tell the Narnians about my muggle lifestyle. They'd never let me live it down. I do wish they hadn't dropped the digital camera in the water, though. The misty spot in the lens left an awful blur over my eye in the photo above. Or is that misty spot a little sprite that flew into the picture just as it was snapped?
I don't really belong to this world. I'm not really the tired, stressed-out, red-pen-wielding teacher lady that I pretend to be.
My name isn't really Ernest, either.
Alas. Thanks to my hideous bad haircut, I cannot be the adorable pigtailed hiking thang I once was.
But I can still look my cute hiker-babe self, particularly when I'm next to such a studly he-hiker as ye olde Hubsteroonimeister.
The housesitter/catsitter arrives tomorrow. And ole Hub and I start hiking soon after that. We'll cover about 15 miles a day.
I won't have to take a shower for five days. I won't have to analyze sentences for adverbs for a week. I won't have to grade a single paper ... until next weekend.
But I'm not going to think about school. Oh, who am I kidding? I'll think about school, but not too much. I'll be too busy stopping to smell the flowers.
It's going to be a good break.