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| The new tent, which my friend Ryan helped me stake up using his ninja knot tying skills. |
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| Lunch, day 2. |
Yours oh so truly,
Lesley
Dip Me in Honey and Bury Me Someplace Nice
1 year ago
9.25.2011
Dear Winfield
Winfield, this year, on your 40th birthday, you left me exhausted, cranky, damp, bruised, and--let's be honest--slightly hungover. You confronted me with strangers who laughed and called me "a Winfield virgin" as they slapped parking stickers my windshield. You gave me a puddle to sleep in and a few hours at a laundromat manhandling wet sleeping bags. You gave me a tornado watch. You gave me a near death experience involving lighting, a nearby power plant, and a sky full of sparks. You gave me four pairs of wet socks in 36 hours. You gave me two sacks of damp, muddy, funky laundry. You covered my cowboy boots with a thick crust of mud. You did the same to my Ford Escort, which after some pretty serious off-roading will be forever known as Mud Puppy. You gave me epically sore feet and a crick in my back and a sleep deficit reminiscent of my sophomore year of college.
But, Winfield, you also gave me and endless sea of bluegrass and old timey folk music as far as the ear could hear. You gave me Ashes to Immortality, Hot Club of Cowtown, Fast Food Junkies, Eileen Ivers and Immigrant Soul, and Dumptruck Butterlips. You gave me strangers who shared directions and their campgrounds, strangers who offered me bags of wine and bowls of pasta salad and the use of their gas stoves. You gave me a new tent that has already proven itself both rainproof and seaworthy. You gave me lunches of cheese and bagels, pears, pumpkin bread, iced coffee, and brownies. You gave me gyros and kettle corn. You gave me two nights of listening to music and dancing with friends and happy strangers until 4:00 in the morning. You gave me music, adventure, camaraderie, and a really cool tee shirt.
Winfield, what I'm trying to say is I love you. See you again next year, same time, same place?
Yours oh so truly,
Lesley
Yours oh so truly,
Lesley
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4 comments:
Ninja knot tie-er here, adding some other Winfield memories if I may.
1). It's fitting that you have a photo of the two knives you brought for the trip. Sure, the lightning strike was dangerously close, and serious tornado action was happening maybe a half-hour's drive away, but those knives nearly killed us both on several occasions. It seemed like everywhere we turned one of those knives was lurking in the shadows, plotting its takeover of the human race starting with a couple of unsuspecting Winfield virgins. "Let me get some beers out of the cooler Lesl... OH MY GOD I ALMOST CUT MYSELF ON THAT KNIFE!!!" "Let me just grab my sweater out of this bag HOLY HELL I ALMOST CUT MYSELF ON THAT KNIFE!!!" I'm surprised I didn't come across one in my brand new box of shoes I needed to buy in order to weather (pun intended) the dense packs of mud the campground developed after a weekend of sloppy, rainy conditions.
2). At the Walnut Valley Music Fest, chances are that the random guy you met while playing Slap-the-Bag (kinda like Whack-a-Mole, but with less moles and more (un)boxed wine) is a friend of your friend's friend. Also, chances are good that you will not only run into the hippie kid you went to high school with, but set up your tent directly next to theirs. The universe is indeed vast, but its a small, small world.
3). At Pecan Grove, the party-all-night campsite with makeshift stages and hordes of friendly drunken masses, people will get worked into Beatlemania-esque frenzies for bands that they can barely hear.
4). Smokin' hot upright bass players of both sexes.
5). McCormick's whiskey tastes better in Winfield. Glasses and chasers optional.
6). If you find a Grumpy Lesley in the wild, you can tame it by feeding it a can of soup.
7). If you were to walk around downtown wearing mismatched clothing, wash your face in a Wal-Mart bathroom, and sleeping a laundromat, you would probably be mistaken for a homeless person in most cities. In Winfield, it just means you survived.
1. YES. I finally took the last knife out of car yesterday after it tried to take my wrist off while I was loading groceries into the trunk. Wiliest. Steak knives. Ever.
6. Ha! It's true: When I'm cold, tired, damp, and sore-footed, all I need is lukewarm Campbell's to make everything right with the world.
So you're one of the crazies! ;)
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