Calling All In Transit

Tags

anticipation, Bread Loaf, summer, Summer Camp, vacation

Something feels like it’s missing this summer. Grad school is over, but old friends who are still working on their Master’s just returned to Vermont and Oxford and Santa Fe this week and last. But it’s not like the past two weeks have been jammed packed with staring at a white wall. What I have done so far with my summer: I have one full week of summer school under my belt. I have been up to Tahoe twice since the beginning of June. And I went to The Gorge in Oregon for a long weekend. So what is it that feels like it’s missing?

I think it’s the anticipation, the expectation of something big. It doesn’t really have to be a big trip per se, or even a trip for that matter. But I think about five full summers, packing up my life for six weeks, and trekking either across the country to Vermont, or over the Pond to Oxford. I have been very blessed to have this experience. I don’t miss the late nights, the bugs, the extreme heat followed by extreme cold, or never having a moment to just be. But let me tell you about the first time I arrived in the little village of Ripton, Vermont and burst into tears, thinking what in the hell have i gotten myself into? I kind of think the same thing my first summer out.

I flew from San Francisco to Boston and stayed with my friend in her tiny third floor Charlestown flat. Three suitcases up those teeny tiny stairs. Three. The next morning, I headed out, equipped with a french cruller and vanilla coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts. Butterflies reminiscent of sleep away camp in grade school consumed every nerve in my gut. The long, winding road through Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and the bulk of the most beautiful areas of Vermont revealed less and less signs of civilization. I passed the school because I thought, surely this couldn’t be. Ten minutes later, I was able to turn around, park on the side of the road, and with a shaking hand, open the front door of the Inn.

That same anticipation revealed itself each and every time I arrived. Where will I be living this summer? Which old friends are here? Will anyone notice that I’ve gained a few pounds? That I need a haircut? That I am ghostly pale because I live in San Francisco? Will I be able to live up to my professor’s standards? Did I bring enough cute clothes? Serious life issues.

Well, now that it’s over, I miss it. I loved that feeling. I want an adventure this summer, the semblance that something is looming out on the horizon. That something beckons me and pushes me a little beyond. I’ll admit that this week, I’ve been searching for writing retreats, yoga retreats, dude ranches. But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. If I had an extra $4800, I know a great biking and cooking trek through Provence. Sigh. Not this year. Or the next.

But I have made a decision. I will have a summer camp experience this summer, come Hell or High Water. I have already attended a sourdough bread making workshop last week. I just signed up for a metal working class. Groupon is full of these things. I am on it. Camp MightyMo is now in effect. Daily schedule is as follows:

5:30am Wake Up

6:45 Scenic Drive to Palo Alto

8-12:15 Activities with Younger Kids

1-2:30 Exercise and Fresh Air

2:30-4:00 Whatever the Hell I Want

4:00 Cabin Cleanup

6:00 Mess Hall Duties

8:00 Quiet Wine Time

9:30 Reflection and Blog Time

11:00 Lights Out

Note: Cabin Cleanup, Mess Hall Duties, and Reflection and Blog Time can and will be deleted as needed to do other fun things like Concert Sing Alongs, Pub Quizzes, Awkward Dating Hours, and Wine and Cheese Appreciation. All Hail Camp MightyMo!

What will you do with your summer? Do you miss the anticipation of summertime vacations or activities?

Tops–The Rolling Stones

(I’ve Been) Searchin’ So Long–Chicago

Radio Free Europe–R.E.M.

True Love Waits–Radiohead

Stare it Cold–The Black Crowes

Merchants of Soul–Spoon

It was the Myth of Fingerprints

Tags

Bread Loaf, Canada, Cornish Blue, daffodils, flowers, Italo Calvino, Michael Armstrong, Walter Benjamin

“Above all, he must not be afraid to return again and again to the same matter; to scatter it as one scatters earth, to turn it over as one turns over soil.”– Walter Benjamin

For some reason, I cannot shake the fact that I have not bought daffodils this spring. Spring is over for the most part, and I did however buy peonies, sweet peas, roses, stock, lisianthus, ranunculus, and even lilac. These are all important to me yes, but who didn’t make the kindergarten pièce de résistance: the egg carton daffodil. Sometimes, mom and I call them daffodoodles. Maybe it’s a Canadian thing. But the Canadian women in my family know their flowers. Thank God, because I always did too, and now I am only one step away from gaining my Canadian citizenship. Therefore, by osmosis or Canuk Intervention, I too know my flowers.

This past summer, I took one of the greatest courses around. Not because of the literature, but because of Michael Armstrong. We studied Italo Calvino, a fantastical Italian writer from the 60s and 70s.

Those Who Find Themselves Ridiculous, Sit Down Next to Me

Tags

Beastie Boys, Bread Loaf, freedom, James, Oakland, San Francisco, summer, Vermont

Mountain afternoon, post-thunderstorm in Vermont.

I first have to address how disappointed that none of my Beastie Boys are pulling up tonight. All I know is that I knew and loved the Beastie Boys when I still lived in San Jose–so before moving the summer before 5th grade, also known as 1987. For the eldest child in my family, that’s pretty impressive. But I did have a clock radio and listened to KWSS, which had Oingo Boingo and Midnight Oil and clearly was ahead of the curve even at 9. But seriously. Really, what I need to say about Adam Y is that anyone dying at 49 of any kind of cancer is just simply heartbreaking. He was sheer talent. He was magic. I’ll move on now, but I do have to say the following:

Don’t step out of this house if that’s the clothes you’re gonna wear.

I’ll kick you out of my home if you don’t cut your hair

Your mom just busted in and yelled “What’s that noise?”

Aw Mom you’re just jealous, it’s the Beastie Boys.

Okay, I am done.

So right now, Quinn the Eskimo is on, and it makes me smile because that’s what Dad calls the new pup when she acts silly. I don’t really have much to say on that but just had to address it.

Today I played hookey from my paper grading. I am okay with it though. It was gorgeous today, and I slipped off to Oakland to see my friend’s new house, play with her kids, and go to the farmer’s market. I am so happy I did. God what a glorious day. It started off with ten hours of much needed sleep followed by physically running into a beautiful man. I must have accidentally stepped into his jogging path (oops) when I was walking to meet my friend to head over to the East Bay. He grabbed my shoulder because we bread and buttered too many times, and he apologized for getting in my way. Not bad for 9:15 am.

When I met up with L, we decided to get coffee and take a cab instead of caffeine free via the bus, and I was thankful. I do miss the peninsula and my parents house though this time of year, and pretending we would be in Capri or Santorino or Avignon–depending on the cuisine and wine. But Oakland did it for me today. I bought an amazing steak, fresh tomatoes, basil, and red onion at the Lake Merritt Farmer’s Market, and bought burrata once I got home. I mean, how does one go wrong? And let me tell you, dinner in front of my window previewing the Supermoon tonight topped all. Patio time in the sun was welcomed by even the palest skin in the bunch (mine) and I now have a nice rosy and slightly freckled pallor. Thank goodness. I was worried the pale would stick around for another six months!

Today I realized how pleased I am that I do not have to race off to Vermont in t-minus 38 days. Perhaps if it hasn’t been your life for 5 years, you don’t get it. I don’t need to