My current (half-hearted, ill-fated) attempt at exercise is to head out for a morning bike ride through Hyde Park. I fill up my Camelback, set my watch alarm to go off in a half-hour, and cruise the neighborhood.
I may not be getting much of a workout, but it gives me time to sightsee (ogle the funky houses and coo at people’s cats) and think (talk to myself). Today was a beautiful morning, cool and breezy after a few days of rain, everything washed clean and dappled in sunlight.
I pondered the lives of these people with wildflower lawns and antique VW wagons and came to the conclusion that, while I may not harbor yuppie dreams of a McMansion, wealthy husband, convertible Mercedes, and babies (not that that will surprise any of my friends), I do have a clear vision of yippie contentment: a purple Craftsman bungalow in a neighborhood dotted with “American for Peace” signs and rainbow flags, front porch with wind chimes, sporty little hatchback, and ten cats.
I am, of course, currently moving in the exact opposite direction from that vision… I don’t know that purple would go over that well in Senegal.
And then there’s this:
One of the saddest sights I’ve seen in a while. One of you should jump on it right now—2/1 on Duval, pre-leasing for August. Great house, great location, and a swanky red wall in the living room that we really don’t want to have to paint over 😉
3 replies on “dreams of yippie heaven”
That picture breaks my heart.
You’re only temporarily moving in the opposite direction. And really, it’s all part of the master plan. Because everyone who lives in your American-for-Peace neighborhood should have led exciting lives and had fabulous, risky experiences.
Leslie’s right – it sounds like Peace Corps service is almost required for entrance to your yippie heaven. 🙂