Summertime… and the living’s nothing even remotely similar to easy.

So, I love summer.  I look forward to it each year like most children (…and, well, me) look forward to Christmas.  “Summer” might just be my favorite holiday.  But I’ve had many issues with summer, and each year, I choose to ignore them and pretend, with a naivete that only poorreception can muster, that summertime is equated with only bliss, relaxation, and endless splendor.  And, so, dear readers, I present you with the highlights of my life’s summers. 

PoorReception’s age: 7
The setting: Copper Falls in Wisconsin
My parents and I have traveled to Wisconsin each year since I was just an idea in my mother’s head, and so some of my fondest memories have taken place there.  Unfortunately, while this memory is, well, memorable, it isn’t necessarily fond.  In the first few years of my childhood, my parents wanted me to see all these beautiful places in the north woods, and so we decided to walk around Copper Falls, this GORGEOUS place up north.  We took our video camera, and old dinosaur of a recorder that weighed about 600 pounds.  The camera holds the evidence to this tale.  See, everything was going fine.  The video shows that we were oooh-ing and ahhh-ing over the beautiful waterfalls and stunning scenery, when suddenly you hear a young PoorReception exclaim, “OHMYGOD, OUCH, OHMYGOD, OHMYGODDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”  Then, you hear my parents tell me, “Calm down, Katie… Calm down.  It’s okay.  We’ll put ice on it later.”  We continue to walk.  Again, this is all documented.  HOURS later (or 20 minutes), you hear me exclaim, “Whoa, it stings.  And it itches.  HAHA… wow, it really hurts.  And it itches.”  Again, I was told to calm down.  In my parents’ defense, I was an excitable child.  The serenity of Copper Falls continues to be interrupted by my vivid descriptions of the itchy, bite-y, painful sting.  Shortly thereafter, the video ends.  Where was this insect bite?  It was on my eye.  MY FREAKING EYE.  And the next day?  MY EYE WAS SWOLLEN SHUT.  And my parents cried.  They felt awful.  And my uncle said, “Oh, you’re a little half-Asian girl!”  What?  I never said my family was P.C.  To this day, when my parents upset me, I can be all, “Hey, remember when you were all, ‘shut up, it’s just a bug bite,’ and the next day, I was BLIND?????”  My parents never let ANY injury go unnoticed after that.  Never. 

PoorReception’s Age: 13
The setting:  AOL.  And Wisconsin (again).
AOL chat was this HUGE thing when I was in junior high.  There was this cute guy, Bobby, and we decided, ONLINE, that we’d be boyfriend/girlfriend.  He was a basketball player.  Unreal, RIGHT?  Anyway, like I said, we decided this while talking online, and then I went to Wisconsin and was having SO MUCH FUN fishing and romping with my friend Betsy that I totally didn’t care about him anymore, and went I got home, I broke up with him ONLINE.  And he’s all, “BUT I LOVE YOU!!!!” and I’m all, “I’m so sorry; I know you’re devastated; you’ll find love again! YOU MUST LIVE!”  This is my story of Summer Lovin’.  That song from Grease?  Written about my relationship with Bobby.  I’m sure of it.

PoorReception’s Age: 14
The setting: Movie Theater
I saw a movie with a junior-high boyfriend.  After the movie, he said, “You know, I should tell you, my dad’s in the mafia.”  His family moved away really shortly after that.
….
……..
Maybe enough said.

PoorReception’s Age:  18
The Setting: Summer Camp
I worked at summer camp.  This has been mentioned before – way back in the beginning of this blog.  I had this problem child.  His parents’ insisted to me that he was a vegetarian, and so he must receive meat-free hot lunch each day.  Soooo, that’s what I gave him.  And, as a carnivore, I felt for the kid.  One day, all these kids were eating delicious mystery meat sandwiches, and this child had a bowl of buttered pasta, and I was all, “look kid, vegetarians can’t eat mystery meat,” and he’s all, “I’m not really a vegetarian,” and I said, “this is what your parents would like you to eat, and MMMMMMBOY, I bet it’s good,” and he got pissed and threw his pasta at my head.  And the bowl connected with my skull, raining pasta down upon my hair and my clothes and my feet and I was like, “YOU’RE A LITTLE SHIT.”  Actually, I didn’t say that.  But ohhhhhh, I was mad.  And then later, the kids played dodgeball, and he punched some kid in the face, and I grabbed him and dragged him off the dodgeball court and said, “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?” and he said, “DOES MY MOTHER TELL NO ONE  ABOUT MY BRAIN DAMAGE???!” And, no, she hadn’t, and I realized that this child was seriously disturbed, and I couldn’t wait for him to disappear when autumn came.  I hope he’s doing okay now.  You know, what with the brain damage, and all.

PoorReception’s age: 18 (same year)
The setting: my parents’ house
I was dating this boy, and I thought I loved him.  He was the first English major I’d dated; I think that was it.  Anyway, he was leaving for somewhere on vacation, and he was about to leave my house, and I was laying on top of him, and we were smooching and being all, “I’LL MISS YOU!!!” but I was sick, and coughing a lot, and he was like, “I’ll miss you,” and I coughed, and the force of my cough was too much, and I TOTALLY FARTED.  While ON HIM.  And then he left for vacation.  “I’ll miss you.”  “PPPPPFFFFFFFFTTTTTT!!!!!”  And then he was gone.  Poof.  Or, Poot.  As the case may be.  (PS?  I call farts “pooties” sometimes.  I think this might make me an idiot.)

There have been other tales – the summer in which I got into 2 car accidents (one of which involved my backing my mother’s car into the brick, outdoor wall of my church), and the summer in which I discovered my need for leg-shaving when I realized that I was the only one among my friends who looked slightly canine.  All these little memories… all taking place during summer.  And yet?  Some of the best things of my life have happened during these months.  We got one of our cats, Lolo, during the summer.  My husband (then fiance) and spent wonderful times in a small, studio apartment that looked out on Wrigley Field during the summer.  I saw Cubs games with my family and my husband, I went on a barbecuing binge and served ONLY meals cooked on the grill for a 40-day period during the summer.

I love summer.  I love outside.  I will take a bead of sweat over a flake of snow any day.  I’m itching to garden, to walk, to swim, and to grill.  I’m dying to listen to Ron Santo on WGN, because that’s something I equate with complete happiness.  My summers may be perpetually odd, but they are also – most certainly – perpetually happy.

Tell me about your summers.   I can see how many of you read this blog – and very few of you comment on it.  Come on, now.  Don’t be shy.  You can’t make a fool of yourself – because, come on, look at me!  You can do no wrong.  Trust me.