After 20 minutes of gazing, I descended into the Valley. The road led right along the Merced. Across that flowing river, mist from the 1612′-tall Ribbon Falls crashed into rocks and billowed mist outward amid trees. In that moment all I wanted to do was walk along the river and soak it in, but, alas, the ticking clock in my mind overpowered the very spontaneity I wanted to experience. The ticking clock told me to find a parking space as close to the Mist Trailhead as possible, as parking spaces fill up fast.

And where do I actually park? I stopped at Yosemite Village to find my bearings. A map showed the trailhead to be somewhere else. I asked a man who seemed to know where he was walking a couple of questions about parking. He did. He told me to park at Curry Village, as parking would likely still be available at 7 am. That was perfect information. So, heeding his advice, I hurried. There was literally one spot left. Yay for me.

After stepping out of my Sexy Sienna, the cool air smelled of moisture and life. Such reiterated my desire to slow down my clock enough to spend a week here – maybe longer. This was almost sad to ruminate. Why experience a place like this only in fleeting moments? But that’s life… sometimes.

Regardless, after finding that spot, Mr. Tummy spotted a restaurant. My faithful companion was getting excited. Surely there would be eggs, bacon and maybe French toast drenched in high-fructose corn syrup. Indulgence titillated the imagination of my friend, and caused the sadness of ruminations to cease. Plus, I’d need energy for hiking, right?

So into the restaurant we went. There is just something so unfortunately wonderful about being a fatty, as I was in those days. Pain of insecurity for seeing yourself fat in the mirror is compensated by indulgence in the very thing that causes that insecurity. It is a vicious cycle.

However, now is the not the time to develop such a topic. Yosemite awaited. Fifteen minutes of Tummy Time was enough. Thereafter I was out the glass door to take it all in.