Summer is waning. I struggle to hold on to my optimism as I stare another school year straight in the face. This has become a routine over the last couple of years. Gone is the excitement I used to feel about the first day of school. Instead, it's been replaced with work and maybe a few I-hope-I-don't-suck butterflies. In some ways, I'm okay with this transition. Until I think of all those first-essays-of-the-year I'll be reading in a little over two weeks.
I feel queasy.
But it won't last long. Just like summer. Today is my last day of nothing-planned vacation. Except I've already planned things, made a mental to-do list just like every other day of my life. It includes weeding the garden, washing the dishes, folding laundry, and cleaning the bathroom. I'll get myself to the gym sometime today too and go buy a gift for my friend Kari's baby shower this weekend.
That's what my summer has deteriorated to. A list of things. Always incomplete.
I feel the pull. The evenings are cooler. The spiders are filling up my backyard. The days flip by. I am some weird migratory bird. I might not feel the excitement, but habit is pulling me back.
I can only hope the magic of learning will once again enchant me.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Accordion to me....you SUCK!
Who brings their accordion camping AND proceeds to play it for 6+ hours in their campsite? I'll tell you who - Crazy Ladies.
We'd just returned from a nice afternoon at the Wickiup Reservoir beach and were welcomed back by the most obnoxious music I'd ever heard in a campground. It was worse than rap and country combined. I tried to ignore it as well as I could - after all, nobody could play an accordion all afternoon, right? But no. I couldn't read. I couldn't relax. All I could do was sit there seething throughout the two hour concert we were subjected to.
I just about lost my marbles when she picked it up again an hour or two later. But what do you do? Technically people have the right to enjoy their camping experience as they see fit. It angered me to no end knowing that Crazy Lady's supposed joy kept infringing on my need for peace and quiet. I envisioned myself walking over to her site to tell her off, but figured I was way too pissed to make any sort of reasonable request. Dave just wanted to yell "you suck!" over and over again, but restrained himself because of how rude it would sound. That was before she started singing.
You have to understand that when I say Crazy Ladies, I pretty much mean totally and completely unaware of social cues. The camp host referred to her as "off her rocker" when I asked if she could do something about the music. I pointed out that the posted camp rules clearly state that music during day time hours must be at a reasonable volume and proceeded to note that if I could walk over a hundred yards in any direction and still hear the "music" as clear as a bell, then obviously it isn't reasonable. But apparently you can't ask someone to turn their instrument down.
At first, Dave thought Accordion Lady must be some SE Portland hipster who thought it was beyond cool to learn the accordion. And she did look like one from a distance and definitely sounded like an amateur. She had on an old red trucker hat (loosely worn and haphazardly cocked to the side), a checked western-style shirt, and skinny jeans. Never mind that in reality she was about 77 years old and probably had suffered a stroke at some point in time since she couldn't use her left arm very well. No wonder the music sounded so terrible. Oh and her evening set? It lasted over three hours, singing included.
She hung out with this other old Crazy Lady who looked like a zombie in orthopedic S.A.S. shoes. If Accordion Lady had suffered a stroke in the past, it must not have been as bad as the one Zombie Lady went through. She literally had to drag her left side along when they walked through the campground. Try as I might, I was too bitter to appreciate the fact that these ladies were enjoying the great outdoors together even though they could've given up on active life.
In the end, Dave and I were forced out of site 42 by an accordion. We moved to the other side of the campground in an attempt to recapture our peaceful afternoon solitude. Luckily for us, the move worked. But we continued to see the ladies Accordion and Zombie a few times a day. From the snippets of conversation I heard and the leopard print pants I saw Accordion Lady sporting, I realized that running away was really the best choice. You just can't reason with crazy people.
We'd just returned from a nice afternoon at the Wickiup Reservoir beach and were welcomed back by the most obnoxious music I'd ever heard in a campground. It was worse than rap and country combined. I tried to ignore it as well as I could - after all, nobody could play an accordion all afternoon, right? But no. I couldn't read. I couldn't relax. All I could do was sit there seething throughout the two hour concert we were subjected to.
I just about lost my marbles when she picked it up again an hour or two later. But what do you do? Technically people have the right to enjoy their camping experience as they see fit. It angered me to no end knowing that Crazy Lady's supposed joy kept infringing on my need for peace and quiet. I envisioned myself walking over to her site to tell her off, but figured I was way too pissed to make any sort of reasonable request. Dave just wanted to yell "you suck!" over and over again, but restrained himself because of how rude it would sound. That was before she started singing.
You have to understand that when I say Crazy Ladies, I pretty much mean totally and completely unaware of social cues. The camp host referred to her as "off her rocker" when I asked if she could do something about the music. I pointed out that the posted camp rules clearly state that music during day time hours must be at a reasonable volume and proceeded to note that if I could walk over a hundred yards in any direction and still hear the "music" as clear as a bell, then obviously it isn't reasonable. But apparently you can't ask someone to turn their instrument down.
At first, Dave thought Accordion Lady must be some SE Portland hipster who thought it was beyond cool to learn the accordion. And she did look like one from a distance and definitely sounded like an amateur. She had on an old red trucker hat (loosely worn and haphazardly cocked to the side), a checked western-style shirt, and skinny jeans. Never mind that in reality she was about 77 years old and probably had suffered a stroke at some point in time since she couldn't use her left arm very well. No wonder the music sounded so terrible. Oh and her evening set? It lasted over three hours, singing included.
She hung out with this other old Crazy Lady who looked like a zombie in orthopedic S.A.S. shoes. If Accordion Lady had suffered a stroke in the past, it must not have been as bad as the one Zombie Lady went through. She literally had to drag her left side along when they walked through the campground. Try as I might, I was too bitter to appreciate the fact that these ladies were enjoying the great outdoors together even though they could've given up on active life.
In the end, Dave and I were forced out of site 42 by an accordion. We moved to the other side of the campground in an attempt to recapture our peaceful afternoon solitude. Luckily for us, the move worked. But we continued to see the ladies Accordion and Zombie a few times a day. From the snippets of conversation I heard and the leopard print pants I saw Accordion Lady sporting, I realized that running away was really the best choice. You just can't reason with crazy people.
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