The Happy Misadventure

"I'm sure it's just right up here."

I just got back from a 35 minute walk. That is something I used to do at least 5 days a week. There is no good explanation for why I stopped and, besides, that's not the point. But I enjoyed it every bit as much as I used to and I hope I've rekindled a happy routine-- at least until the snow flies.

This past weekend I decided to take Kelsey up on an invite to see Shakespeare in the park in Ann Arbor. Much Ado About Nothing, one of my favorites.  So off I went on a Friday afternoon. The drive went well.

We decided to grab a bite at the nationally famous deli that calls Ann Arbor home, a deli that shall remain nameless. I stepped outside of my own personal dietary law and had a pastrami on rye with swiss, slaw, and russian.  I don't know, maybe I'm just a snob, but I don't go for deli's serving "rustic" rye, the kind made with a crust that leaves bruises, abrasions, and small lacerations throughout the mouth and esophagus.  And I really, really like it when you can actually taste the pastrami, especially when the sandwich is ordered with a large portion.  Shoulda been a sign.

Then, off to Shakespeare. We parked downtown because the venue didn't have onsite parking and, after all, we thought it was just up the hill from campus. So off we went, across the campus, up the hill, up the hill some more, past the cemetery-- the really big cemetery-- and, finally, after just 20 minutes or so, we were there. Well, almost. First we would have to hike across the park to the amphitheater located about 1.5 miles from where we stood at that moment. So, after a quick application of bug spray we went down the hill, across the valley, and up the hill, and down again (that's 1.5 miles as the crow flies) until we came to the amphitheater-- the vacant unstaffed amphitheater. Nope, we needed to follow the river to the parking area (the what ??). It looked like that's where one got tickets. 0.8 miles later the answer was a definite "no." This we knew because there was a sign telling us where to go to get tickets. Just another mile or so.

Exiting the jungle we finally got to pavement-- a paved pathway that climbed straight up, up, up. Finally, overheated, sticky and wet, we were within sniffing distance of the ticket office. And that's when Kels hit an uneven seam in the cement and blew her sandal apart. The good news was this happened within 50 feet of the bus stop to her apartment. We missed the bus but, first ray of sunshine, incredibly there was another just a minute or two behind the first.

Back at her apartment, with my daughter's feet looking like something out of the dustbowl migration, we realized we would never make the show. We swore we would never leave home without a map and clear directions to a destination/event we think we sorta know about.

Then again, maybe not. We had a really great time laughing about our muggy wandering up and down the forested hills of the Arboretum.  It was fun to be on a walk together. And, we learned where not to have deli. And, Kels got a couple new pairs of sandals-- missed the show but the mall was open. And, finally, I got reintroduced to the pleasure of taking a walk. Not a such a bad little excursion, after all.