Roughing It (On My Terms)

This week we leave for vacation: four days in the northern wilderness, where our primary activities will be building a shelter out of tree branches, hunting game, and fending off forest-dwelling zombies. On second thought, we’ll sleep in real beds in a real house, drink wine on the porch, and get Dairy Queen at least once daily. Such is my idea of roughing it these days.

My parents tent-camped with us when my sister and I were kids, and we loved it. I loved the pattern of the leaves on the ceiling of the tent; I loved swimming all day, every day; I loved the hot cocoa and bacon and eggs for breakfast; I loved nature hikes, collecting bugs, and fishing for sunfish and perch off the dock. My pleasures were not eclipsed by all the hard work that must have gone into these trips. I was a kid! It was my birthright to be sheltered by such petty concerns as planning “al frecso” meals for a week, packing enough clothing and of the right type to protect us in cold, heat, wet, and buggy, and not forgetting the first aid kit, the insect repellent, and the toys, games, and books to keep two kids entertained in case of bad weather. (Read more…)

Adult Swim

Glad to see that while some things change, some things stay the same.  Anyone who has ever spent a summer afternoon at a community pool and heard the words “Adult Swim!” (and experienced all the emotions that go along with it) will understand exactly what I’m about to say.

You see, on the best community pool days, you arrive, procure the perfect pair of lounge chairs, unload the bags of crap and manage to keep your very excited child(ren) from leaping into the diving well. But at the drop of a hat, this “home run” can quickly turn into a “ground out to first” if you inadvertently time your arrival with the start of Adult Swim.

Let’s be clear about something – no child under the age of 17 understands the concept of Adult Swim. Oh how I wish I could just sit on the side of the pool and stare at the women in the floral swim caps doing laps. But that is no longer an option. Instead, I now spend Adult Swim wishing I had taken a class in Balloon-Animal-Making. (Read more…)