where'd you put the keys, girl?

Today, after picking up my dogs from my parents', I stopped at our 20 acres of property that has been in our family for over 100 years. The fall colors were blazing away, it was warm out, and I was in a great mood.

Sophie and Sadie are such city dogs and weren't quite sure what to make of the trails. They were like, what are these? Sticks to step over? Ferns to go around? Leaves to trudge through? I think not. But then they got a whiff of all the wonderful smells - deer, turkeys, pheasants, mice, and other frolicking woodland creatures - and realized how much fun this was going to be. Noses to the ground, they were quivering all over with sensory overload.

We had a great time tromping through the woods and enjoying all the foliage. It's the one place in my life that doesn't change that much. It's timeless; I feel six or sixteen or thirty-eight years old, or all ages at once. I just feel like me when I'm there.

I got back to the car and opened the door. Except it wouldn't open. None of the doors would open. I could see my keys, purse, camera bag, and phone inside. Crap. I had successfully locked my keys in the car, something I haven't done since college. Luckily, my brother, who lives on the property, was home, and we called a tow truck to come and unlock it. How extremely embarrassing. An hour later, the very nice tow man worked his magic, the door popped open, and I paid him $55.

It was a very expensive walk in the woods.