Legitimation of Play

To play.
To be silly.
To romp around in the snow, sled down hills, make snow angels.
There seems to be only one way to legitimize this behavior after, oh say, 17:

Company.

-Parents with their kids.
-A group of laughing "young folks" (apparently, if you're the right age, it's okay to play without the presence of kids because it's acceptable--maybe even preferable--not to have children quite yet).
-A person with a dog.

So when I defiantly say for the umteenth time in my life, "why shouldn't I go do something fun just because no one else can come?", and head to the sledding hill (or "sled riding" hill if you're from PA), determined as I was to have a good time, I was nevertheless joined by a good dose of awkwardness.

About six or so kids on the hill.
As many parents; dads mostly.
And be honest; if you were a parent out sledding with your kids, and some lone 20-something that you don't know hikes up the hill, watches for a moment, than sleds down on the snow-packed surface on just the slippery quality of tear-away running pants, would you be a little wierded out?

It would be better if I was better known in the community; if the parents out sledding with their kids were people who volunteered on community projects with me, or if the kids were students I worked with at school. But unfortunately I'm not quite there yet--closer, make no mistake of that. I love this community. I love the people. It's just going to take a bit longer before I don't have to have a pre-arranged friend that I'm meeting before I can casually stroll into any spontaneous gathering and feel easily welcomed.

Until then, I guess I need to do better planning of play dates with friends... or perhaps more encouragement of others to give me a call when they plan or spontaneously do something fun. As busy as I am, my mental health monitor will always try to make time.