Four months ago I wrote a blog post about creating a list of 16 magical things to do this summer. As we approach Labor Day, how have I done on my list? Let's take a look.
"Make ice cream from fresh fruit": Check. I picked up a lovely boatload of strawberries from the farmers market, churned them away with cream and sugar, and had some delightful ice cream. That same evening, though, I left my apartment with my friend to go to a party and... left the ice cream on the counter and DIDN'T REALIZE IT TIL THE NEXT MORNING. Adios, strawberry ice cream, we barely knew ye.
"Swim in a body of water that's not a pool": Check. During my five-day silent retreat, I snuck away during one of the scheduled meditation sessions and wound my way down to the Rapidan River, where the center provided tubes for you to float on. I tubed my way down to a flat rock, dipped myself in the water, and set out to dry. Five minutes later, I heard rustling on the banks and the large dark movements of... something large and dark. "BEAR!" my mind flashed, not really understanding that we don't get like, grizzlies or anything in Virginia, and there was no need to panic. So I launched my body, like an Orca aiming after a seal, on to the tube and paddled frantically away. As I looked back at my predator-to-be, I saw on the bank a small black cow chewing cud and staring confusedly at my thrashing.
"Catch fireflies with my niece and nephew": Let's give this one a semi-check. Halfway through the summer, it dawned on me that they're not quite old enough to stay up past when it actually gets dusky in the summer, so, therefore, no fireflies. Instead, I took my two-person tent, brought it to the basement of my parents' home, and told them we were going "camping." I insisted on making them s'mores that night too, in my parents' firepit, the use of which my mom is apparently convinced is going to start the Great Eastern Seaboard Wildfire. While I roasted marshmallows on sticks and my niece and nephew screamed at me that I was getting it wrong by letting them catch on fire, my mother nervously stood by with a hose and a bucket and put out the fire 10 minutes after it started. I ended the night getting them to go to bed by watching YouTube videos in the tent. Sigh.
"Get a tattoo": I've false-started this one about 17 times. I'm nervous. It hasn't been helped that I had a dream a few weeks ago that I went to the most prominent tattoo artist in the country, who started tattooing me without talking to me, but because she was so proficient in her field I assumed she had my design and she knew what she was doing. When she stopped, I sat up to find she had tattooed onto and around the whole of my left calf the American flag. There was much dream screaming to be had.
All this to say, the list is going... okay. And as imperfect as the items above have been, I certainly wouldn't trade them. I got a couple great bowls of strawberry ice cream that I made with my own hands. I won't soon forget the peace and silence of floating entirely alone on a river with the bend of trees up ahead. My niece and nephew were eventually enraptured with their first s'mores, and the tent may as well have been a magical castle to them. My tattoo? Well, we'll see about that one. I'm working about it. And I've also managed to kayak, camp under the stars, eat softserve ice cream, go berry picking, seen some blockbuster movies on opening night, and more. It hasn't been a perfect summer of wonder, but it's been more than good enough. Now, off to tackle the rest of that list...
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