Yea, I do. I'm not like some people I know that wake up, go to work, come home, watch NASCAR, drink eight beers, then go to bed. I watch baseball...
What I'm saying is that I try to keep moving. I try to get out when I can. Take some trips, see some shit, eat some food. I do not like monotony.
So with that said...sure, I've done a few things since my last entry. A trip back home, done some fishing, eaten some good food, did a little camping. But "The Art of Doing" is a fairly bold title. It has a larger feel than just getting out of your house. When I read the title, "The Art of Doing", I expect to read about elaborate travels of an interesting, bearded man who cannot be stopped by the day to day humdrum of everyday life.
I want to be that interesting, bearded man. At least sometimes.
It's nice to explore new places over a three-day weekend--but it's also nice to come home to a cool fucking wife and comfy giant bed. I get so caught up in the romanticism of traveling and doing, but it can get a little exhausting if you force it. As much as I like getting out and doing my best impression of a dog with his head out the window (metaphorically speaking, of course), it's nice to sit back and appreciate what you've got right under your nose.
Comfy, king size bed? Check. Ornery black retriever? Check. Lovely wife? Check. I even have a house that I don't rent and a fancy new four-wheel drive truck! So I suppose when real life takes over and I'm not able to head up the mountains or jump a plane to another state, I can sit in my blue, plastic Adirondack chair that my wife bought me for our anniversary, sip a cold drink, and look over my 1/10 acre (that only takes six minutes to mow!) and appreciate life.
Moving or not moving, things are pretty swell. It's all considered part of the journey.