So, Thursday I did the Geneva Lake Circuit. Friday I returned to Lake Geneva (Geneva is a city in Switzerland, Lake Geneva is a body of water in Switzerland and a town in Wisconsin, and Geneva Lake is a body of water in Wisconsin, got it?) to help Ernie G. celebrate his birthday. There was a game of "San Juan" in progress when I got there, and eventually a game of "Liar's Dice" after that, and the usual conversation and foolishness.
Saturday Dementia and I returned to Bristol, her second trip of the year, my thirteenth. We wandered, she bought a few things, and eventually she worked up the nerve to climb the castle (a climbing wall), at which she succeeded admirably.
Sunday I put on full Ren Faire drag, but bailed out of the parking queue because I just wasn't up for the crowds. I considered going canoeing at Sterling Lake; it wasn't very crowded, but then realized I didn't have my rowing gloves with me (and my hands were still a bit raw from Thirsday). I went home, checked in at Great America to take advantage of an absurd deal for next year's season pass, and then met the Incomparable Nikki (TM) for dinner and conversation.
Monday was the last day of the season at Bristol, and I was there in full drag for several hours. I listened to some music, heard a few REALLY twisted dark fairy stories, and had a few random conversations. It was all kind of bittersweet. I have had a good time at Bristol this year, but the circumstances were unusual and possibly unique, so this might be a once in a lifetime experience. We will always be back once or twice, but I don't know beyond that. Time will tell.
So... About those thinky thoughts.
Late in the Geneva Circuit, after the sun had gone down, there was a difficult section where I was crossing waves that were large enough to be dangerous, and the thought drifted through my head that I rather doubted one would ever find an honest self-professed atheist who had ever been out in a storm in a small boat (If you haven't heard my rant about the emotional bankruptcy of atheism and actually want to hear it some time, ask.), and THAT led to one of my cranial denizens asking, "So where does that leave YOU?" And I thought about it, and eventually answered, "This lake is my friend. She's playing with me; she doesn't WANT to hurt me. That doesn't mean she CAN'T, of that she WON'T, if I am stupid, but all I need is a little caution, and a little respect, and it will be fine." And of course it was.
Nikki and I go back a LONG way. These days, she is a practicing psychologist, among other things. She is always charming, always pleasant to be around, and Sunday was no exception. We discussed the nature of happiness, and she asked me what I got out of rowing, which evolved to the question of what I get out of being on the water, which I couldn't answer beyond, "It feels right." We talked about her life; I didn't tell her, and should have, that she seems to have a groundedness that I have not seen in her before (which is not to say that I ever felt it was lacking). We talked about my situation, and she said, "You're not really depressed, you're just pathologically pragmatic. And you tend to express yourself darkly." Which made a great deal of sense.