general silliness

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Summer Curmudgeon, or Summer Activities I Abhor

Yesterday’s comments echoing my thoughts about Fourth of July made me a little gleeful, to be honest. I really dislike this holiday. Mainly for the fireworks and the heat, but I can see how the patriotism aspect might leave you a little sour these days as well. 

The other thing I hate about July Fourth is parades. We have been going to an Independence Day parade with Carla since she was a year old, and apparently we can’t stop. But I haaaaaate it. It’s always so hot. We have to arrive an hour early to get a decent spot in the shade, but no matter how we plan it, the shade has always deserted us by the time the parade is going on. There are too many people. The parking is terrible. We inevitably forget something critical, like water or snacks or a picnic blanket. Carla always gets too much candy. The parade itself drags on for days. I am a sweaty mess by the end. The only positives about the parade are getting to see a good friend of mine who brings her kids to the parade too, and Carla’s enjoyment (which is inextricably linked to the aforementioned candy). I wonder how old Carla will be before we decide to nip this tradition in the bud.

My curmudgeonly feelings about July Fourth and parades got me thinking about other summer “fun” that I also dislike. In Elisabethan Top Five/Bottom Five style, here are the summer activities I hate most. 

  1. Water parks. This might be my least favorite thing ever. Too many people. Bathing suits. Water afloat with unmentionable horrors. Bathrooms where people feel comfortable not wearing shoes. I used to love going to pools and water parks when I was a kid. Now, I shudder at the thought. 
  2. Amusement parks. Crowds. Germs everywhere. Rides of questionable safety. The possibility that someone could vomit at any moment. This is like all my anxieties going clubbing together.
  3. Beaches. Sand. Gets. Everywhere. (Plus, the ocean is an unfathomable abyss and I would prefer to stay far, far away.)
  4. Fishing. Everything about fishing gives me the squeams, from baiting the hook to catching the wriggling living creature. Also, it is kind of boring? And I live in constant terror that someone will cast the line and catch me or another human by the cheek with the hook. 
  5. Camping. I am a terrible sleeper in the best of conditions. Put me in a tent surrounded by trees and apex predators and I will not sleep a wink. Poison ivy. Peeing in the grass. Hanging your food from a tree branch. Carrying your sleeping roll and food on your back. None of this appeals to me.

Despite my bad attitude about most summer activities, I do love some of things you can only do in summer. 

  1. Boating on a lake. My parents’ house (well, their summer home, now!) is near a lake and I love tooling around the crystal clear water in their little motorboat. I would not like to be on a boat in the ocean, or on a boat in a larger lake (the Great Lakes might as well be oceans; I need to see both shores of a lake thank you very much). But their lake, the lake I grew up visiting in summer, is perfect.
  2. Waterskiing. This is, again, an activity for a very specific kind of mountain lake. But when the conditions are right, I love to waterski. There is something so thrilling about skidding over the surface of the water like a sea bird.
  3. Drinking iced coffee/tea. Okay, so technically you can do this in winter. But I prefer to save my iced drinks for summer. I love a tall glass of iced chai. 
  4. Hiking. My feelings about bugs notwithstanding, I enjoy a good hike. I try to get outside every day to walk, and hiking is just walking with a pretty destination in mind. Bonus points if there’s a waterfall involved. 
  5. Bike riding. I will admit that riding a bike still makes me a little nervous. But I do love finding a nice, car-free path to bike along with my family. It feels virtuous to be doing something active, and it feels wonderful to be doing something together.

What are your favorite / least favorite summertime activities?

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Great Mysteries of the World

How is it that every day – Every. Day. – I find myself tortured by a single hair that has affixed itself to my side? It’s always in the same place – on my left side, within reaching distance of my left elbow, but just out of eyeline, so that I can only catch tiny glimpses of the hair if I contort my body in just the right sunlight. It does not seem to matter which shirt I am wearing – the hair is always there. Always grasping for the delicate skin of my inner arm, yet darting nimbly out of the way when I start feeling around for it with the fingers on my right hand. It’s tricky, too, pretending to retreat when I brush at my side. Only to pop up again when I am doing things like unloading the dishwasher or trying to make pancakes. (Don’t get excited. I am merely putting pre-made – by Eggo – pancakes into the microwave and then flipping them once.) Eventually, I get so mad at the hair, I wage all-out war, plucking at my shirt, my arm, my head, until I FINALLY extract the offending strand. It is typically, somehow, through the mysterious magic of hair, lodged INSIDE my shirt, as though the fabric had developed hair follicles and sprouted its own lush if single-stranded mane.

Today, I was attacked from both sides: the ubiquitous hair on the left was joined by a rarely-but-not-never-seen hair on the right side. Why am I dancing in the kitchen before my first sip of tea, you ask. It’s not dancing but the writhing gyrations of a creature enduring ticklish agony from an unseen enemy.

Every day I struggle. Every day. I have long since given up asking how. And why. But, if there is a way to prevent this from happening (Ponytails: doesn’t work. Vigorous morning hair brushing: nada. Going nude: haven’t tried it, but I’m rapidly approaching it as an option.), I am all ears.