Spring Break

Hear That?

It’s the sound of Mrs Fringe having a quiet day.

Black Sand Beach, Maui

Black Sand Beach, Maui (Photo credit: szeke)

In my mind, the scene above is where I am today.  And man, do I need it.  This neverending winter has felt torturous.

But, Spring Break started for Flower Child at 2:35 yesterday afternoon, and Nerd Child is home for another week, so it counts as Spring Break for me, too.  In the spirit of the day, Big Senile Dog decided to start us off right by peeing all over the apartment last night.  In case you were wondering, I don’t call him Senile for no reason.  Occasionally, these days, he forgets the protocol for when and how to void his bladder.  He isn’t the biggest dog, but he is sizable, and has a bladder appropriate for an elephant.

A busy week this week.  I did a fair amount of work on the WIP, submitted eek!!! two short stories, picked up a mountain’s worth of dog poop, all the usual Mama stuff, and had a conversation with the puzzle doctor without crying, pretended I’m moving to New Hampshire and saw some fabulous real estate porn, managed to keep my brain inside my skull despite the ongoing jackhammering on my corner.  Great success.  To reward myself, I made an extra pot of French Press this morning, and spent the last two hours reading.

Reading

Reading (Photo credit: – Annetta -)

Just reading.  No research, no Facebooking, no crushing myself with literature I’ll never measure up to, just a nice read. What else would one do lying on an empty beach?

At some point this week, I read about Michelle Shocked’s rant in California.  I liked her back in the day.  Didn’t love her, but I had a couple of cassettes with her music.  I wasn’t shocked that she’s now found religion, and embraced a different outlook along with it–to put it mildly.  She isn’t the first, won’t be the last.  There’s a difference though, between someone who changes their views, actions, or even their beliefs, with age, time, and their personal experiences and someone who can’t commit to who they are now or admit who they were way back when.  It made me wonder, who are/where are the young women we can look at and admire now?  Odd, isn’t it, the things that can trigger sadness for lost youth, commitment, and passion?

Gawd, I’m maudlin today.

Imma go put some Patti Smith on the iPod.  I would dance along, but I’m afraid to get Big Senile Dog excited, since I’ve only got three paper towels left.