Help.

That’s what was texted to me a couple weeks ago. It was my co-worker at the newspaper, stuck in mud somewhere in the backwoods of Maggie Valley. Normally, I would finally get to sleep in on a Saturday morning, but not this time. I pulled myself out of bed, cranked my pickup truck and headed out of Waynesville.

Kacey Musgraves makes me feel like a teenager. Shouts of joy escape my lungs when I find out she’s performing nearby. All my friends grow weary over my constant babbling about her. If there were a life-size poster available, I’d probably buy one — her music is just that good. 

I always end up with too many pumpkins by Halloween, a trajectory I am headed down once again despite telling myself to abort mission.

I needed to make an escape.

Last Tuesday morning, my cell phone vibrated incessantly on the nightstand. It was 8 a.m., and the sender was my news editor. My eyes creaked open like a rusted cellar door. The message informed me that the government shutdown had taken effect. Thus, we needed to scrap our original cover story while going to press that day and do a whole new feature on the closures in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and along the Blue Ridge Parkway.

As a kid, everything in my house stopped for the Olympics. From the opening to the closing ceremony, any semblance of normal life was put on hold, and we spent day upon day glued to the games — a big treat since our weekly TV time was otherwise limited to the Cosby Show, Family Ties and Knight Rider.

I like to get lost.

Though my sense of direction is as strong as a dog’s sense of smell, I purposely wander into destinations unknown. If there’s two ways to a location, I’ll take the one I have yet to traverse. I want to cross paths with people, places and things either unnoticed by a rushed society or forgotten by the sands of time. Plenty of these things are old, some new, with many hovering somewhere in between. 

I had a bit of a wake-up call this week as I read over a fabulous collection of kid’s nature activities compiled by the folks at “Take a Child Outside” week. 

The list of splendidly simple ideas for exploring the world beyond the back door gave me a whole new perspective on playing outside, ways to engage and interact with the natural world that never would have dawned on me.

I know a lot about nothing.

As far back as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated with everything. How many dimples are there on a golf ball? — Ranging from 330-500, depending on model. What’s the deepest point in the Pacific Ocean? — Mariana Trench at 35,797 feet.

I recently took stock of our craft supply cupboard and realized it’s looking a little paltry.

At one time, I was proud of the run-of-the-mill pipe cleaners, popsicle sticks and multi-colored pom-poms in our craft stash. But that was before a Michaels craft store opened in Waynesville, and now, I find myself wandering the aisles craving must-have craft supplies I was once blissfully ignorant of. 

I was born half-fish.

No, not the mermaid kind, but close. As a kid, I grew up on Lake Champlain, a 125-mile long body of water sandwiched between New York, Vermont and the Canadian province of Quebec. Pristine waters flow from the Adirondack Mountains to the west and the Green Mountains to the east, ultimately heading north and merging with the majestic Saint Lawrence Seaway.