The great outdoors.

           With a love of reading and a distaste for exercise, it’s no wonder I’ve never been a fan of the outdoors.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love the beach.  I adore boating.  I think there is absolutely nothing like being out on the water.  But sitting outside, exploring, or even writing outdoors has never piqued my interest.  Until lately.

            Maybe it’s because of the writer’s conference I went to.  Everyone there kept encouraging me to try writing in a different setting.  I mean, even Libba Bray said her friends sometimes have to push her out the door because she refuses to crawl out of her writing hole.  But this is different.  I don’t just want to write outside.  I want to be outside all the time.

            In the past, hanging out in the driveway while my kids rode scooters or climbed trees was painful for me.  I like air conditioning.  And big comfy couches.  Sweating is not my friend.  And bugs seem to love me more than anyone else in a three mile radius.  Being outside has always felt like punishment.

            These days, it feels more like a reward.  I want to lace up my sneakers and walk as far as I can.  I want to sit under huge trees and think about all the things they’ve seen.  I want to explore streets and alleys I’ve never noticed, and find new places to take my boys.  I think I’ll use the mornings that they’re both in school to do these things.  If anyone wants to join me, let me know.