We’re vacationing in the Rockies this week. We’ve attended a concert beneath twinkling stars and majestic mountains. We’ve watched elk stop traffic as they meandered to a patch of grass in front of a gas station to nibble a while. Last night we looked on as fireworks exploded above grandiose mountains that poked through the night sky. It’s been great.

Vacationing is wonderful. You get to meet new people, and dress in ways you never would back home. I mean, hey, these people will never see you again, right?

Case in point. We went hiking yesterday. Now, my man is big on following the guidelines (I know, kind of hard to imagine why he married me, huh?). Okay, he knows we’re going to be in the Rockies so he reads up on what’s needed to hike trails then he makes his little trip to the store. He comes home with hiking shoes—SERIOUS hiking shoes, as in they take up half my suitcase—water bottles and walking canes. Okay, the fact is I need someone like him. I’d probably try to hike in sandals.

But can I just say my outfits weren’t meant to be worn with hiking boots the size of California redwoods (same color, too). Still, when he looked at me with eager eyes, walking canes in hand, I knew I had to yield.

So despite the fact I have on cute little khaki capris and a dainty top, I shrug on white socks (I didn’t pull them up to knee high, okay?), and hiking boots. I can’t begin to express the power I felt once I stood in those puppies. Godzilla comes to mind.

But they worked. Our hike was a huge success (course, I stamped out tiny rodents along the path, but don’t tell the park rangers, okay?)

All that to say, vacation is for having fun. I’ve chosen to ignore what other people might think of me and just plain enjoy myself.

We passed a store yesterday with Indiana Jones type hats. He wants to go back. I’m not quite there yet. But maybe if I can find a red one . . . .