Today, I couldn't sleep past 10.
I leaped out of bed, laced up my runners, got on my (dad's) bike. I went uphill, then downhill for an hour, and came back inside only to go back outside, out on the water. We went tubing to tunes, and as Mick Jagger crooned, "am I rough enough?"... I slid off the inner tube in sync with his "ooh," and with the aid of my lifejacket, popped my now-throbbing head above water. I came back inside again, and left within ten minutes, with dripping-wet hair only to drive, to sip and sample wine at one of the World's Top 5 Vineyards (at least according to Travel & Leisure), which in reality, made my head pound a little worse. Mission Hill Winery offered "gorgeous, breath-taking views" of the Okanagan Lake, and rows and rows of grape-vines made me want to lay down and nap. Which I, and my little sister did. We lied on the grass and stared at the sky. Got up and ate and ate again, playing dumb to the fact that we'd have to wear our barely-there bathing suits, baring our near-bulging bellies in a few hours. We shopped and strolled the town. We'd scarcely stopped all day in the plus-35, dry heat. And when we came back to our beach home, I caught myself complaining to my dad, like I have (too) many a time.
"I'm bored," I whined, slouching, sinking into the corner of the elevator.
"But you haven't stopped all day," he says, rolling his eyes.
"I know, but...."and I gave up on my defense. All around me is green, lush, summery, just as I've been yearning for... but where is the flashing, scuzzy "Zanzibar" sign. No angry, road-raged, sun-scorched drivers. No 10-dollar pitchers of headless beer. No homeless men to dance with on the streets at night(!).
Parents.... they just don't understand.