Innies and Outies

Something EXTRA June 1981 Page 11

Silver Linings

By Terri Andersen

There are indoor people and there are outdoor people—“innies” and “outies” I guess you'd call them—and I'm still trying to figure which category I really belong in. One side of me is a great lover of the outdoors. My strongest fantasies take place under clear blue skies, in clean, fresh air, with green mountains, lush forests, babbling brooks and rambling streams. I picture myself hiking through tall-pined woods, with rays of sunlight peering through the trees, giving a cathedral effect to the space around me while I tread on a pine-needle carpet. Or I'm sitting on a large, smooth rock, watching the sun splash diamonds in a cavorting stream, and the peace and solitude are broken only by the joyful chorus of birds singing their praises of nature. If my fantasy takes place in late evening, I picture myself with people who mean the most to me huddled around a blazing campfire as the velvet cloak of darkness encompasses us in a circle of warmth and friendship.
The light from the fire casts a golden glow on the faces surrounding it. To make the setting perfect someone strums a guitar while mellow voices blend in perfect harmony to ease away the cares of the day and prepare our weary bones for the peaceful slumber of a night under a golden moon and brilliant stars. I still vividly recall a vacation in the Bahamas, where I came as close to pure ecstasy as I can imagine, just sitting at the edge of a beach with clear, blue water, letting the waves wash over me as they tried to pull me into play with them. The coolness of the water against my sun-heated skin made me feel almost “One with the universe.” So much for the outdoor side of me. The indoor side of me hates bugs, snakes, wet clothes or any other kind of discomfort. I've never actually “slept under the stars” for fear of being eaten alive by the insects of the night who seem to feel the outdoors is their sacred territory and any human who dares to trespass deserves at least six welts per inch of skin. I would love to go hiking, but I haven't yet found a pair of shoes that don't hurt when I walk in them. I promised my husband we'd go walking every night after supper, but find I'm always either too full or too tired—and can't decide where to walk to anyway. I put up a badminton set in the backyard to get my share of healthful exercise and have played exactly once. Couldn't stand the gnats getting in my eyes, my nose and my mouth. Every year we say we'll try camping, but the thought of having to give up my creature comforts helps me find all kinds of excuses not to go. I promise myself to put in a few hours of gardening every day, but can’t seem to get myself over to the garden. Too much work, too much dirt, too many bugs, too many weeds. Besides, if I grow too many vegetables that only means I'll
have to either cook them, can them or freeze them, and that's too much like work, too.
If I didn't have to get out of the house to “go to business,” I'd probably never bother getting dressed or leaving the house. So I guess I'd have to say that I'm really an “innie.”
But what about those “outie” tendencies? Will they ever get to be satisfied? Maybe I'll get my fill of the outdoor life in the Great Beyond. Sure hope it's bugless.