I am a creature of habit. Good for some things, a bit bothersome in other departments of my life. Either way, it’s a habit – I cant break it. This connects to a larger part of my life. Habits are kind of like mini traditions and I love traditions. They carry memories, and a certain anticipation prior to arrival. I have a handful that my family has imprinted on my life: Grandma’s Christmas Casserole. Holiday Inn. Ok, they are all holiday ones. Everyone has those, Dang.

I want to do it differently: in my life, with my friends, with my future family. I dont really care what slice of my life the tradition falls into – be it a weekly, annually or a seasonal happening – if it’s a shoe-in, I’m in. I have a few on the books that would be a delight – but those shall remain a mystery – not the point of this post.

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The last weekend in June is one of my longest standing traditions. The Festival of Hoops, more commonly known as Hoopfest, takes me back to my roots. Back to Eastern Washington and back to the streets. Ok, I didnt grow up the streets – that was a joke. To put this 2day event in a few words – largest 3-on-3 basketball tournament in the world – yes, world. But truly, it’s hardly all about the basketball.

This little summer stint is an opportunity to run into the oldest friends, slurp down some shaved ice, and avoid getting third degree burns with a touch to the hot as hell asphalt. Its of one of those “you kinda have to be there” things.” So, two years standing, I have kindly introduced a comrade of mine to this dear tradition.

Hello shake Hoopfest’s sweaty-dehydrated-dirty hand. Last year, Erica was dazzled by these two days and this year mr. master marc eby was my accomplice in crime. Doesn’t everyone love showing a friend their childhood stomping ground? We did plenty of stomping and he had many first steps through Spokane.


It was another notch under my belt for my old friend HF and even though I did not win a tee shirt signifying my mad beeball skills- i did have a jam packed weekend full of snits and giggles, sips of some sweet beverages, and reminiscent rants with elementary friends.  This tradition has transformed a bit from my 6th-grade-tie dyed-pigtail sporting days…but still, quite enjoyable and always a summer highlight.

But dont be fooled, traditions may carry memories from the past, but there is always room to injet a few first’s and events undone into the continued tradition.

First’s worth reporting: Obliterated a bird on I-90. Mowed down Pita Pit. Drank from a goblet the size of my head. Enjoyed the sweet servings at Chili’s. Saw a fire-scortched-trailer full of hay.

Hey you. What are some of your favorite traditions? Leave ’em here. I’m interested.


~ by Andria on July 1, 2009.

One Response to “repetitive”

  1. Singing in Opera “Andreeeeeaaaa, Andreeeeaaaa” EVERY Morning

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