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What happens when I go stir-crazy
Mon, Apr. 18th, 2005 08:59 amI went pretty stir-crazy yesterday afternoon after the attempt to write and the ill-advised nap and watching of "Wuthering Heights." I'm spending far too much time cooped up in my condo. I'm getting sick of the place. I therefore pried myself out of the house and went to Gasworks Park to fly my kite.
This could get to be a problem.
Why? Because it might get addictive. It was a perfect kite-flying day—both blue and cloudy but crystal clear, windy as heck—and I had competition for the sky from people with kites far more dynamic than mine (though none prettier). Two guys were out with kites that looked like inflatable parasails. The kites pirouhetted, swooped and scooped through the air, and their owners fought to keep themselves on the ground while they played. It looked like something of a work-out. Someone else had a stunt kite, an articulated thing that is almost accordian-like in its action, and made it do flips and sommersaults. I just hung out with my modest little delta kite and tried to reassure it that I wasn't flirting with the other, bigger, sexier kites.
But I was tempted.
A little research on the web showed me what I suspected: that there's a whole kite-flying culture out there (The American Kite-flyers Association, for one thing), of which I had only the vaguest idea. It all looks like a lot of fun, but I'm a dabbler and I know it. Apparently I'm not flying my kite in the serious kiter's park for one thing (that would be Magnuson Park, across town from me). But I learned that one of the major kite manufacturers is located in Seattle and that if I wanted to I could get involved in kite culture pretty quickly.
In short order, I put down my spool and stepped away from the kite. I don't need yet another expensive hooby to immerse myself in. It's there if I want it, but for now, I'll stick with my little delta kite with the dragonflies and enjoy everyone else's fancy-schmancy flyers as an observer. But the call of the sky is hard to resist....
This could get to be a problem.
Why? Because it might get addictive. It was a perfect kite-flying day—both blue and cloudy but crystal clear, windy as heck—and I had competition for the sky from people with kites far more dynamic than mine (though none prettier). Two guys were out with kites that looked like inflatable parasails. The kites pirouhetted, swooped and scooped through the air, and their owners fought to keep themselves on the ground while they played. It looked like something of a work-out. Someone else had a stunt kite, an articulated thing that is almost accordian-like in its action, and made it do flips and sommersaults. I just hung out with my modest little delta kite and tried to reassure it that I wasn't flirting with the other, bigger, sexier kites.
But I was tempted.
A little research on the web showed me what I suspected: that there's a whole kite-flying culture out there (The American Kite-flyers Association, for one thing), of which I had only the vaguest idea. It all looks like a lot of fun, but I'm a dabbler and I know it. Apparently I'm not flying my kite in the serious kiter's park for one thing (that would be Magnuson Park, across town from me). But I learned that one of the major kite manufacturers is located in Seattle and that if I wanted to I could get involved in kite culture pretty quickly.
In short order, I put down my spool and stepped away from the kite. I don't need yet another expensive hooby to immerse myself in. It's there if I want it, but for now, I'll stick with my little delta kite with the dragonflies and enjoy everyone else's fancy-schmancy flyers as an observer. But the call of the sky is hard to resist....
