Mandays (part three)

My first two descriptions were quite lengthy, mainly because they are my favorite. So I’m going to try to shorten them up from here on out…

First day of football season

On so many levels, but the greatest of which is probably the time of year it occurs. The last few weeks of summer, right before school started. In junior high, my friends and I would hop on our bikes to ride to the football fields, carrying a bag of equipment over one shoulder and using the other hand to steer the bike. In high school, the first day of football practice meant going to the fields early in the morning for the first session of two-a-days. The grass was wet from dew, the air cool, but the sun still powerful. All of the other fall sports teams were around campus as well, and everyone started talking about the coming school year. In college, it was the first Saturday when the majority of the student body came to one place and mingled around the field, freshman wearing their new clothes trying to meet new people and trying to hide the alcohol on their breath, upper classmen wearing the same pair of jeans they wore their freshman year but faded and fraying, carrying their booze in mixers disguised as pop bottles, savoring the beautiful warm weather before parkas, stocking hats and mittens are required for the next six months. Now, it signals a time that gives me a reason to be able to sit on the couch every Sunday for at least 3 hours in my sweatpants with the grill cooking beer brats and cold beer in the fridge.

State Fair Week

Endless options of fried food on a stick that you must eat for the simple reason that you can say you have eaten ___ on a stick. Hot summer-time weather. Great milkshakes. And thousands of people that make your highlight reel for weirdest people of the year.

Snowdays

You wake up in darkness. Sit up in bed, turn and walk to the window to see a white blanket covering everything in site, with a snow globe sky adding to the layer on your windowsill. The dread of the thought of shoveling flashes into your head. Back in school, you instantly turned on the radio to listen for school delay announcements, hoping that today would be the day that you hear the glorious word “Cancelled” stream over the airwaves. As the deejay makes his way alphabetically through the cities near you, your heart starts to race. You forget how many schools start with the same letter as yours, when suddenly you hear your school named. You run back upstairs to tell everyone in the family. You savor your homemade waffles and bask in thought of using your snow pants and coat that are screaming your name while hanging in the closet. As soon as the dishes are in the sink, you’re dressed in your snow gear and running to the garage to grab your sled.

Now, I long for the days of holding my head to the radio in the kitchen, but when we do get that big snow once or twice a year, it feels so good to call the boss and say you won’t be coming in. It feels even better to receive the call from your boss just as you’re walking to the shower, telling you to avoid the roads for the day and just call this afternoon to check in.

It’s still a ritual to make homemade waffles on snowdays in our house though.