It’s almost July and after a year of busy weirdness I’m going to take a week or so off. The sun is hovering over Oregon, the days long and the nights still cool, a perfect time to step away for a few days.
I hope to find myself in a kayak, walk the dog in the woods, and maybe even sleep in past six. I’d like to have a week where the only problem I have to solve is figuring out clues before Maigret or Dalgliesh.
Moving trucks will pull up at our temporary campus next week and by the time I get back we’ll be back on Center Street in a beautiful new building ready to start beginning to begin starting to start to begin to get ready for a new year.
Truth be told, the planning for next year has already taken its first steps. Back in May we held our annual calendar meeting, where we laid out dates for the shows, concerts, and events that bring artistic life to our school (so many of which had to be put aside in 2020-2021). There’s an optimism on campus that we’ll be back on stage and in front of audiences when we return in the fall. The details and final plans are still on the shelf —a shelf that is not my shelf; we’ll be told the rules as we get closer to the first day of school— but that optimism is real and something some of us haven’t felt this much since before March of last year.
But as real as it is, our collective optimism is still June-tired. We all need to recharge, breathe deeply of some summer air, and find a cold river where we can get our feet wet.
That’s my plan for next week and throughout the summer. You’ll see fewer posts on this Skins of Ill Shaped Fishes in July and that’s okay. It’s summer after all and all of us could use a little more popular fiction than my silly musings.
So thank you, gentle reader, for visiting this modest apothecary. I wish you all a bit of rest, a bit of fun, and the hope that comes when optimism gets a good night’s sleep.