Big Beautiful Dreamer
ridiculously contented
It was over. Camp Mexakwixen was no more. The camp (named after the Algonquin for “fresh water”) where I had been first a camper, then a counselor, then a program director and, for five years, the director, had closed. The state grant that had made up fully half our funding had been axed in the latest budget.
I was a lot more fortunate than most: I’d been promised a good desk job as program coordinator for the regional parks and recreation system. But I would miss the eighty acres of hilly campgrounds, the sprawling green meadows, the sparkling lake, the seemingly endless hiking trails, the valleys and rises and copses spilling over with wildflowers.
What I didn’t realize I would miss was the change away from a job that had kept me trotting up hill and down dale for twelve or fourteen hours a day. I’d always been tanned and fit, and my wardrobe consisted largely of camp T-shirts and khaki shorts.
The polo shirts and khakis I now wore to work didn’t represent much of a change – but as fall turned to winter, I noticed my year-round tan fading away. And in its place was the inevitable weight gain that came from sitting on my backside at a desk five days a week. For the first time in my adult life, I spent more time sitting down than standing and walking.
I didn’t notice it much until after Christmas. After, to be fair, I’d snacked my way through an awful lot of homemade brownies, fudge, gingerbread, and holiday parties that crowded the counter in the workroom and landed on the staff calendar just about every week. I had to go up a size or two in khakis but didn’t think much about it.
I was a lot more fortunate than most: I’d been promised a good desk job as program coordinator for the regional parks and recreation system. But I would miss the eighty acres of hilly campgrounds, the sprawling green meadows, the sparkling lake, the seemingly endless hiking trails, the valleys and rises and copses spilling over with wildflowers.
What I didn’t realize I would miss was the change away from a job that had kept me trotting up hill and down dale for twelve or fourteen hours a day. I’d always been tanned and fit, and my wardrobe consisted largely of camp T-shirts and khaki shorts.
The polo shirts and khakis I now wore to work didn’t represent much of a change – but as fall turned to winter, I noticed my year-round tan fading away. And in its place was the inevitable weight gain that came from sitting on my backside at a desk five days a week. For the first time in my adult life, I spent more time sitting down than standing and walking.
I didn’t notice it much until after Christmas. After, to be fair, I’d snacked my way through an awful lot of homemade brownies, fudge, gingerbread, and holiday parties that crowded the counter in the workroom and landed on the staff calendar just about every week. I had to go up a size or two in khakis but didn’t think much about it.
