anatomy of a vacation
I feel like I’m exiting the off-ramp of this huge, endless weekend, in which getting-in-the-holiday-spirit included pumpkin pie for breakfast (sometimes sans plate!) and Irish Cream in my coffee (which tastes faintly of mud without it). For awhile there, everything was so eggnoggy and Pandora Christmas Radio and unstructured days with sun-up to sun-down playdates, except the days we never left the house, cocooned in our mess of books and art supplies and well, eggnog.
But suddenly, the eggnog we were drinking like daily vitamins seems as wildly indulgent and impractical as a bunch of rich, old, white guys getting paid to create legislation about women’s bodies. And likely, we won’t make another batch until next December (not the least of reasons being we, um, soup-potted our chickens and their eggs are the only ones I feel ok about eating raw).
Pumpkin eggnog: the swooniest! If you’re still riding the eggnog wave, this is the recipe we use here.
Basically, I can see the future and it looks like there are actual reasons to leave the house (that don’t involve toting sleds under our arms). I feel like I just found the bookmark I quickly jammed in the Book of My Own Life a few weeks ago. Now I’m flipping back to the page I had marked, last year, reminded of work and school and all those real-life responsibilities awaiting our return.
And really, I love my work with a Capital L, it’s just that I’ve sort of forgotten how to use a computer when it doesn’t involve clicking the Pandora “thumbs up” on Jackson Browne’s beautiful boy-voice.
What a wonderful break it has been.
Dan’s been coaching the kids on wrestling moves (incidentally, Dan was a star, all-state wrestler, or some such glory, in some stage of growing up).
Making waffles, because every day is the weekend:
Col and Rose’s friend Mathew slept over one night and the next morning they devised a game in which each kid takes turns running the perimeter of our 800 sf house, tags the next kid on the couch, and waits eagerly for their next turn. Brilliance.
I know many of you all are veering down the same off-ramp right about now. How lucky we were to have had that nice long pause. Big hugs and deep inhales as we all return to the page we left off from.
ps: my parents have been here, which has been absolutely wonderful as usual. I haven’t taken any pictures because, well, with all the hugging going on, it’d just be backs and heads.
ppps: new writing class starting in 3 weeks, details here.
pppps: (is that many ps’s even legal?) I’m writing a story about the Dove Creek dryland bean farmers and interviewing these fabulously salt-of-the-earth farmers. If you have any connection to/contacts with the Dove Creek bean farmers, would you let me know?