Going to Camp

So...I am going to A-Camp. On Wednesday, I'll be flying to LA to frolic on a mountain top with a bunch of queer folk. This sounds like fun, right? Yeah, it does but that doesn't mean that I haven't found plenty of reasons to be nervous. I will list those reasons for you now so that we can all enjoy the warm glow as I stoke my anxiety like a well-built campfire:

1) I am old. I am 43 and have gray hair and "laugh lines" and my boobs are not quite where they used to be. Despite my youthful spirit, I cannot pass for youthful.

2) I have grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle which includes ice for cocktails.

3) I don't have the right shoes and I spent all of today trying to find a pair of hiking shoes that I liked but they ALL looked like they were made for lesbians from the 1970's. I may be old but I still have standards and I don't own a fanny pack.

4) Though I used to be outdoorsy, I am more outdoorsy-adjacent these days.

To prove this last point, I will share a few conversations I've had recently.

Vikki: I need to buy a pair of hiking boots.

Luisa: Why?

Vikki: Because I am going to be leading a hike at A-Camp.

Luisa: BWAH HA HA HA!

She then suggested I wear her hiking boots because it would be a waste for me to buy a pair for one hike. I appreciated her laughter about as much as she appreciated me telling her that her boots are ugly.

Vikki: I need to buy a pair of hiking boots because I'm going to be leading a hike at A-Camp.

Kristin: BWAH HA HA HA! I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh.

Vikki: I used to be outdoorsy!

Kristin: I know you did and you can be again!

Vikki: Luisa doesn't want me to buy boots.

Kristin: Maybe you should borrow mine.

At least, Kristin tried to control her laughter.

Vikki: So...I am going to lesbian camp.

Raquel: That sounds like so much fun!

Vikki: I'm kinda nervous though.

Raquel: Why?

Vikki: Well, I am leading a hike.

Raquel: BWAH HA HA HA!

Vikki: I USED TO BE OUTDOORSY!

Raquel: If you have to tell people that you used to be outdoorsy, you are no longer outdoorsy!

Whatever. I have pictures of me near tents and canoes.

Vikki: So I heard a rumor that there is no ice at A-Camp.

Deborah: What?! How will you have cocktails?

Vikki: I know, right?! What will I drink? I'm too old to drink warm beer. I think I'll have to pack red wine.

Deborah: Oh, you can't do that. You'll feel horrible drinking that.

Vikki: One young person suggested drinking vodka straight from a water bottle but I can't do that!

Deborah: No. No you can't.

Even outdoorsy people like ice! I did find out today that there is ice at A-Camp so at least I don't have to worry about that.

I am excited for the trip but I am nervous too. I am the shy retiring type and I'm heading to camp without a wing-woman. I'm sure I'll have a good time...I just hope I don't fall off the mountain or get eaten by a bear or drop melted marshmallow on my bare leg (that happened during one of my outdoorsy adventures and it hurt like crazy and, despite what my friends say, it was a very serious burn that may have left a scar. You know I'm gonna go look for the scar after I post this).

No matter what happens, I'm sure I'll have some stories to tell.

I'll be back on 9/17/12. Until then, enjoy your comfy beds and your ice and your wifi. I won't be needing any of those things.

Sincerely,

Your outdoorsy friend Vikki

p.s. I'll miss you all.

p.p.s. I'll miss Luisa and the kids the most, of course.

p.p.p.s. Who am I kidding? I'll miss my bed the most. My hip hurts when I sleep on a bad bed. #oldladyproblems

p.p.p.p.s. A Public Service Announcement: Kids - don't play rugby. Your knees and hips will hurt when you reach your 40's.

p.p.p.p.p.s. Okay...I'm really going now...farewell...remember me fondly...

Heading to the Lake

I didn't blog last week. I was on vacation and it seems that, for me, there is an inverse relationship between vacation and blogging. We stayed at home and cleaned out the basement and then went roller skating and to Valley Fair and to movies. We hung out with Susan and her family a couple of times. This is the point in the post at which you might expect me to say, "But now I'm back!" and make all sorts of promises of posts and witty stories.

That's not going to happen though because we are still on vacation. Today, we are packing up the family and a bunch of peeps for roasting and heading to Oak Lake for the next week.

There is no wifi at Oak Lake so I won't be posting from there. I hope to get back in the swing of things when we return next weekend. The kids will head back to school after Labor Day...Luisa will be heading to the Bahamas and I'll be ready to write.

Until then...have a great week! I'll have a gin and tonic for you while I'm away.

Coffee Romance

An American tourist, an Italian woman in a maid's uniform and a small hotel in Rome...

Sounds like the perfect set up for a romance novel, right?

In a way, I suppose it was a romance...except that I was the American tourist traveling in Rome with my family and the Italian woman was an actual maid in our hotel and the only words we ever exchanged were, "Coffee?" and "Si, grazie".

The morning after we arrived in Rome, we all slept late. Luisa got up and went for the complimentary continental breakfast and, when she returned, encouraged me to do the same. The kids were still asleep but breakfast was going to end in 15 minutes.

Luisa: You should go get breakfast. They have great bread and coffee.

Me: But I have bed head and I am not wearing a bra and I don't know how breakfast works here.

Luisa: It works like continental breakfast usually does. You go in, you sit down, someone brings you coffee and you eat.

Me: I'm scared. Come with me.

Luisa: We can't leave the kids alone and you should eat. You'll be fine.

What good does it do to have a girlfriend who is a cunning linguist if she won't help you get coffee and bread in a foreign country?

I sighed loudly, made myself as presentable as possible and stumbled to the dining area. There were pastries lined up on a long antique cabinet and small tables covered in linen table cloths and set with set with cups and silverware and there was a giant espresso machine nestled behind a bar. I focused my attention onthe espresso machine and that's when I saw her - the Italian woman, the heroine of my coffee romance novel.

"Coffee?"

"Si, grazie."

I sat down and she went to work. Soon, she arrived at my table with two small stainless steel pitchers - one held coffee and the other steamed milk. I thanked her again and she went back behind the bar.

I poured the coffee slowly into my cup. It was deep brown and smelled like freshly roasted and ground coffee beans. I poured in a bit of milk, stirred it lightly and then took my first sip. It was strong but smooth and, if I weren't such a self-conscious person, I might have allowed myself to moan just a tiny bit.

I was sitting in Rome drinking a perfect cup of coffee.

I drank every last drop of that little pitcher of coffee and went back every morning for the next three days. It was always the same woman, always the same coffee.

On the last day, I finished my last cup and wished that I spoke Italian. I wanted to tell that woman that she hadn't just given me coffee, she'd given me memories. Instead, I smiled and said, "Grazie". She smiled back and that was the end.

There are those moments in life when food and drink and people and place come together in a combination that you know you won't forget.

Those quiet mornings in Rome and those cups of coffee will stay with me for a very long time.