Wanderlust

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By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

Mr. Kaminski likes to wander.  He’s all about getting to a locale and then traveling to a different locale on a grand adventure, no planning, just a spur of the moment excursion.

I do not share his propensity for unprepared, unplanned, unpredictable wanderlust.  I need to plan.  I need an itinerary.  I need to be properly attired and hydrated.

Mr. Kaminski’s modus operandi is that we will drive for hours to arrive at a planned destination only to have him exclaim – many times the very day of the travel – let’s go to “insert a different destination a minimum of one hour away.”  I am not on board for that.  I have spent days preparing for our journey and finally arriving at our desired, intended location.  I’m not about traversing to a different venue first rattle out of the box.  I have unpacking to do, settling in to accomplish, hair to wash, plans to make.  I need a minute.

Not Mr. Kaminski.  He is a rolling stone, and he wants to drag me along as his pebble.

Now I’m up for adventures – planned excursions not the day of a previously planned trip or the next day upon arrival.  But Mr. Kaminski seems to thrive on the next place to go not being satisfied with the intended destination.

Just this past weekend, he arrived in New Braunfels one day, and the very next day announced an impromptu trip an hour away.  Now this particular trip he has been after me to participate in for a solid six months, so I finally gave in.  But here’s the rub: He sprung his plans on me at breakfast – out and about – and wanted to depart directly following our morning meal on the road trip.  I was not prepared, but I acquiesced to his spontaneity.  After all, I try to be a good Christian about things.

“It’s only 20 miles,” was his declaration.  Let me just say that 20 miles in the Hill Country is not a direct, as the crow flies, 20 miles.  There’s zigging and zagging, hills and valleys, all on Farm to Market roads.  Twenty miles is an hour.

We arrived at said destination only to discover the rest of the population of the state of Texas had the same idea.  It was a once-a-month Trade Days.  I had nothing to trade.

The event was not at all as Mr. Kaminski remembered it, attending it a mere 20ish years ago.  Things can change in 20 years.  Just look at me – case and point.

He was somewhat disappointed; I was somewhat sunburned.  Again, preparedness vs. spontaneity.

We were scheduled to attend the Lavender Festival in Blanco the very next day, a planned voyage, yet another hour away.  But alas, I was prepared for this journey.  What we did discover at the lavender farm where it was advertised that “lavender fields abound” was less than luscious lavender.  There was no truth in advertising there.  What we found was scraggly, sparsely spaced bushes without a lavender bloom in sight – not so much as a smidge of purple – and overpriced soaps.

Of course, I made do because Lisa Ann and I were nearly two Lavender-ritas in by the time we arrived at the farm.  And yes, the “rita” part means tequila.

I’m done with spontaneous road trips for a while, actually, maybe forever.  They just don’t work out for me.  We’re headed to Colorado for the July 4^th holiday.  I promise y’all if Mr. Kaminski comes up with a detour on this trip, we’ll all miss him.  See y’all next week – on the porch!

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Patti Parish-Kaminski

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