A drive in a thunderstorm.

So Linda and I pick yesterday of all days to go visit the high lakes.  Linda wanted to check out Sparks Lake because she's gotten a sudden hankering to go kayaking.  She's going out with a friend this week to rent a kayak and see if she likes it.  I think I'm going to wait until she finds out if she likes it.

Anyway, arrived at the shores just as the storm hit, and there was a mad scramble out of the water.  Looked like something from a Spielberg movie.

Kept driving though, dropping by Elk and then stopping for a snack at Cultis.  The restaurant was full of young people, who I figured was probably the summer crew up there, but not too many other people.

I'm amazed I haven't been up there in ages.  I usually head east, for some reason when I want to go out into nature.  Even if I want woods, I tend to prefer the Ochoco's for some reason.  Less visited, I suppose.

I spent most of my youth outside -- both in the summers and the winters.  Now that I'm adult, there is nothing to keep me from doing the same thing.

But whereas most kids probably grow up wishing they could do all these extra curriculer activities, my youth was packed with them.  My mother insisted.  She couldn't stand us sitting around, for any reason.

I have a theory that most kids grow up and go:  "Now I'm adult, I can do anything I want.  I can go out and do all these recreational things I want."

Me:  "Now I'm adult, I can do anything I want.  I can sit and my room and read all day..."