When I lived on the west side, I came to the valley on Memorial Day weekend. This is so relaxing, I thought. Now that I live here full time, this past weekend seemed like a zoo.
All the cash registers at Hank’s were operating, and there was still a wait. I passed Hank’s gas station twice before I bit the bullet and got in line. At least I was next, but there were cars waiting for the pumps beside me.
Leaving Hank’s, I grew impatient with the parade of cars to my left. I saw an opening and made a left turn with enough time for the oncoming car not to hit the brakes, but I still got a honk.
I couldn’t live here if the town grew to this size.
I don’t know how I lived on the west side for 23 years.
Memorial Day is to honor the dead. This weekend was anything but dead. On Friday evening, I went to a concert at TwispWorks. Saturday morning, after stopping at the Farmer’s Market, I went to cover the World Famous Mazama Pancake Breakfast, then back to the Farmer’s Market, then the Methow Valley Rodeo. Sunday was my usual routine, plus a memorial service. On Monday, I wrote two articles. One article in a day is an accomplishment. Two in a day is giving it everything you’ve got.
So, on this fine Tuesday, I got a bit of a breather. I only have my regular routine and small things to catch up on. It’s a break compared to the last three days. As we used to say at my workplace, “I need a vacation after my vacation.”
