1
Every weekend adventure is necessarily preceded by some amount of research. For this weekend we knew where we wanted to go generally, but how to find the specifics was an unclear task. After a brief google search, we came upon both the official Blue Ridge Parkway website and a detailed website aptly titled "Waterfalls of the Blue Ridge Parkway". After scanning the latter, and overwhelmed by the multitude of choices, I followed the link that caught my eye for obvious reasons: Skinny Dip Falls. After receiving an unwarranted reprimand from the site author instructing anyone in search of nudes catapulting themselves off boulders into icy cold basins to try a more specific wording in their search browser, I decided this was to be our destination.
2
A certain amount of preparation ensues between a chosen destination and a foot out the door. Directions are printed, bags are packed, shoes are tied, a leash is grabbed and a general lay of the day's plan is discussed, or at least considered.
My weekend standard:
On this particular day, the general plan as the movement started simply consisted of "get lunch"; "waterfall" took a backseat to the hunger pangs setting in as the morning's
strawberry smoothie wore off.
3
And we're off. The day's adventures begin. Nothing is considered trivial and neither of us even thinks to murmur that this or that part might not count. We settle down for an avocado hoagie (J) and a calzone filled with soy cheese, pineapple, and banana peppers (eaten by C, designed by J) at Mellow Mushroom. We cross the street to peruse Ragtime's latest. I try on every jean jacket, glance at the sizes on the tags of blazers (never mine), and resist a reversible down vest. Catie is torn between the idea of velour and the perfection of the blazer made from it. We leave empty-handed and satisfied like it was the first potato chip out of the bag.
"More vintage!", we scream in our glances.
"How about Honeypot?"
4
Now ensues the real adventure. We are drawn in like Japanese tourists' video cameras to the Mona Lisa (really y'all, she's not going to move). We head over to Lexington and stop into Hip Replacements for a quick second before reaching Honeypot. While inside Catie tries on sunglasses goggles while wearing a raccoon-themed hat. I'm drawn to some reddish wingtips. Once again we leave empty-handed, but we are realize we're not really here to buy so much as try on. As much as store employees might despise it, we've all been there, right?
5
After stops at Parlour, Malaprops, Union, and Tops, we decide to head a little south.
In Biltmore Village, we feel like tourists. Unlike in downtown, we don't recognize a face and no one seems to care about ever recognizing ours'. After a coffee and a brief walk-around we realize we are exhausted for the day. In my typical style of suggesting the plans for the next few hours, I detail my desires.
"You know what I want to do now?"
"What's that?"
"Go home, cook dinner, read books, and sit on the couch."
"Yes."
6
We've got consumer exhaust. We make it home and settle in with our Heiwa leftovers (best sushi and soup in Asheville) and our respective books. While I'm reading "The Town That Food Saved" and dreaming of having my own farm sooner rather than later, Catie is getting lost in Kate Bornstein and S. Bear Bergman's "Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation".
We drift off to sleep just in time to bypass any regret we might feel about completely ignoring our waterfall-seeking plans of the day.
7
Rule number one of weekend adventures: don't sacrifice spontaneity for the sake of the destination.
We didn't make it to a waterfall on Saturday, but the town-exploring was worthy of the title "adventure" in and of itself. Sometimes the best remedy for the stresses of a week is to avoid specific time-limited planning and simply give into your desires when it's over.
We tell ourselves "this is what we want", and so we do it.
Theme song for the day: Lupe Fiasco's "Paris, Tokyo"
-JR
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