This was exactly the week I needed. It began with a picnic with family in the park. The days that followed at work were productive and restorative (thanks to a department retreat via Zoom where I got to hear from one of the dearest voices of my college career and career in general), the evenings were fun and gorgeous (thanks to not cooking much and beautiful sunsets), and the overall feeling was one of cautious optimism (thanks to a DNC convention and a four-day weekend).
Back in early June, sensing that we would not be making any of our usual lake visits or Boise vacations, I found an intriguing spot to pin all our hopes to for a summer getaway. That spot was two hours away in Soap Lake, a town that is decidedly Trump territory and offers a community theatre performing Noel Coward plays (currently closed, of course), a Russian deli, an Italian-Brazilian pizza joint, and a taco truck. We rented a modern cottage near the water just off Main Street.
We arrived on Friday afternoon. The landscape was scrubby and exposed, stark with basalt edges, softened with dusty paths. The sides of buildings were spotted with bugs trapped in cobwebs, and the buildings themselves were nondescript, not seeming to belong to any particular era. Nothing about it screamed destination, but there seemed to be community humming in the quaint resorts and RV parks along the water, populated largely by Russian families, at least from what we observed. Soap Lake itself is not remarkable at first glance. Our private stretch of beach was grassy and poky and a little buggy, and when we opened our lounge chairs, I worried that this would be the most uncomfortable and flat-out lamest vacation we'd ever been on.
But I've never been to a lake quite like this. You can walk for a long while - and I mean long while - before you're deep enough to swim. Beneath your feet is thick, black sulfurous clay that people scooped up and slathered onto all exposed skin (getting their partners to help with the back regions), let dry, and then rinsed off in the lake, believing themselves to be somehow better than before. This medicinal mud has been the allure of Soap Lake for at least 100 years.
The shallowness and stillness of the lake also made for sublime stand-up paddleboarding, and these were provided with our cottage rental. I paddled to somewhere in the middle and laid down for a spell, feeling the peace of solitude and nature. We even briefly coaxed Luna onto the board for a minute or two.
It ultimately was a perfect type of vacation - we never felt like we were missing out on sites and attractions because everything was right in front of us or down the street. The air around us was ours. The lodging itself was modern and comfortable in ways that made me feel taken care of, with amenities we don't have at home: a big screen TV, a Keurig, Adirondack chairs on the patio and recliners in the living room. We were at the water most of the day, and we read, did crossword puzzles, watched movies, knitted, drank cold beer in the afternoon and ate surprisingly good takeout. At night, the sky was darker than at home and I could see a hint of the Milky Way.
The drive home solidified the feeling of being a tourist in my own state as we stopped along the way at Dry Falls State Park and the Grand Coulee Dam, sights neither of us had seen before.
I can confidently say that the coronavirus made this trip happen. I'm glad it did, and I know that our memories of this trip will grow even sweeter with time. I'm already feeling wistful about it, and we just got home a few hours ago. It was a good reminder of how much there is to see in close proximity to where we are. It's the stuff of Woody Guthrie songs, after all.
Recipes
I'm too tired to describe the things we cooked this week other than to say we grilled some pork and made a sauce that made for excellent tacos, we teamed up another night to make one of our favorites, cardamom lime chicken, and on Thursday I made a pour-in-the-pan style focaccia with cherry tomatoes and pesto that I will totally make again.
Otherwise, part of the vacation-est part of vacation was not making anything more complicated than coffee and toast.
Watching
I got teary-eyed watching Michelle Obama and Joe Biden at the Democratic National Convention this week. It reminded me of what leaders sound like, what empathy looks like, and why I will cry regardless of the outcome on November 3.
We also watched four (!) movies at Soap Lake. A classic: Best in Show; a dark comedy: I Don't Feel at Home in This World Anymore; and two brainless comedies: Drunk Parents (super dumb, with Alec Baldwin and Salma Hayek) and An Evening with Beverly Luff Linn (great, but probably only if you love the actors as much as we do)
Reading
I finished Molly Wizenberg's new memoir and read the excerpt of The Lying Life of Adults by Elena Ferrante that was published in the New York Times last Sunday. I loved being in the minds of Ferrante's characters again.
Listening
I am not sure what kind of music I'm drawn to right now.
Making
I have started knitting the second sleeve of my sweater. If this sounds like progress, I should also mention that I have yet to start the body of this sweater. It's slow-going, but I totally love it. Over the past two weeks, I've loosely been participating in a Design Your Wardrobe class offered by Seamwork. It's got me thinking again about my color palette and being more scrutinizing about styles and patterns and fabrics, which is hard when you're drawn to so many different things. I put together a Pinterest board to try to find similarities in things I'm drawn to repeatedly so that I can focus more on making those kinds of things when I sew and knit. I want to wear the things I make just as much as the things I buy.
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