VACATION
I went to writer's group today. These get together's are always interesting. There are times I feel like I am a fish out of water.
Sometimes, I feel like I have nothing in common with many of these folks.
For starters, they are older than me. That shouldn't really matter as I'm an old soul and seem to get along better with the octogenarian set, than my own set.
But these people are, how should I put this? More traveled than me. I have knick-knacks sitting around my house that I've collected at flea malls and garage sales and antique stores. These people have family heirlooms and little pieces of art that they've picked up in Norway and the Netherlands and Russia and Italy and the 80 million other places that require a passport.
I don't even own a passport.
My adventures are limited ... to braving the grocery store (Walmart on Saturday, if I want a real adventure) and dealing with fourth graders and managing an unmanageable cat and well, there's the matter of the non-existent travel fund ...
So, today, when the retired librarian (who will actually have a full retirement by the time she dies because the state had a fully funded teacher retirement back in the day when government didn't rob Peter to pay Paul ... or however that saying goes) asked me why I wasn't going on a Spring Break trip, my lame excuse was, "Oh well, my closets needed cleaning."
I mean, they do. OH. BOY. DO. THEY. EVER. But honestly, the truth of the matter is that I can't afford a trip somewhere exotic where a bathing suit is required. By the looks of things, I will never be able to afford it, seeing as I will be teaching until I die because the government now happily robs Peter to pay Paul ... my teacher retirement probably won't be around by the time I need it. My money is going to some Joe Blow in some county on the other side of the state. Good Ole Joe is going to Jamaica on my dime. Enjoy, Joe!
Facebook is full of amazing trips right now ... cruises and beach vacations ... with smiling, slightly sunburned faces just screaming, "LOOK AT ME!! I AM SOME WHERE WE LIKE TO CALL HEAVEN, AND YOU AREN'T!!! LUCKY US!!!"
I guess I just look at vacations differently than most. Shoot! I look at every thing differently than most. To me, a vacation is my butt in the sand on Carp Lake with a pile of books that will take me through two weeks. I don't need a fancy place ... just a clean cabin with plenty of sun on that heavenly lake.
When I sit quietly and concentrate really hard, sometimes I can still hear that water lapping lazily on the shore line, the scent of Copper Tone mixing with sand and sweat and campfire. My heart aches for those days again.
I am not sure what the future holds for me, but perhaps, there will once again be lazy beach vacations on my beloved Carp Lake or Lake Michigan or some other quiet location away from the happy, happy smiley, smiley families dying to show Facebook how awesome their family vacations are.
Sometimes, I feel like I have nothing in common with many of these folks.
For starters, they are older than me. That shouldn't really matter as I'm an old soul and seem to get along better with the octogenarian set, than my own set.
But these people are, how should I put this? More traveled than me. I have knick-knacks sitting around my house that I've collected at flea malls and garage sales and antique stores. These people have family heirlooms and little pieces of art that they've picked up in Norway and the Netherlands and Russia and Italy and the 80 million other places that require a passport.
I don't even own a passport.
My adventures are limited ... to braving the grocery store (Walmart on Saturday, if I want a real adventure) and dealing with fourth graders and managing an unmanageable cat and well, there's the matter of the non-existent travel fund ...
So, today, when the retired librarian (who will actually have a full retirement by the time she dies because the state had a fully funded teacher retirement back in the day when government didn't rob Peter to pay Paul ... or however that saying goes) asked me why I wasn't going on a Spring Break trip, my lame excuse was, "Oh well, my closets needed cleaning."
I mean, they do. OH. BOY. DO. THEY. EVER. But honestly, the truth of the matter is that I can't afford a trip somewhere exotic where a bathing suit is required. By the looks of things, I will never be able to afford it, seeing as I will be teaching until I die because the government now happily robs Peter to pay Paul ... my teacher retirement probably won't be around by the time I need it. My money is going to some Joe Blow in some county on the other side of the state. Good Ole Joe is going to Jamaica on my dime. Enjoy, Joe!
Facebook is full of amazing trips right now ... cruises and beach vacations ... with smiling, slightly sunburned faces just screaming, "LOOK AT ME!! I AM SOME WHERE WE LIKE TO CALL HEAVEN, AND YOU AREN'T!!! LUCKY US!!!"
I guess I just look at vacations differently than most. Shoot! I look at every thing differently than most. To me, a vacation is my butt in the sand on Carp Lake with a pile of books that will take me through two weeks. I don't need a fancy place ... just a clean cabin with plenty of sun on that heavenly lake.
When I sit quietly and concentrate really hard, sometimes I can still hear that water lapping lazily on the shore line, the scent of Copper Tone mixing with sand and sweat and campfire. My heart aches for those days again.
I am not sure what the future holds for me, but perhaps, there will once again be lazy beach vacations on my beloved Carp Lake or Lake Michigan or some other quiet location away from the happy, happy smiley, smiley families dying to show Facebook how awesome their family vacations are.
Comments