August 7, 2007

Vacation Express

To make getting to the cottage more do-able, I finally caved and bought a laptop. There's no internet up there (heck, there isn't even a phone), but I reasoned I could at least do enough work not to fall behind.

The only time the computer was up was for Jackson to play chess. I never went near it. I do a remarkable job of lying on the dock all day, however, listening to the siren song of vodka and iced tea calling my name...

I don't actually take something like a week off. I haven't since I started writing. Your brain keeps grabbing at words and ideas, like branches reaching out into a river and snagging on things. You can't stop it. And of course the one you let by will be the best.idea.ever. And so it goes.

The back to school flyers have started, and I'm still looking for more shorts for one of the kids. One of my mother's sayings flips through my brain right about now: A day late and a dollar short. I should have that printed on a T-shirt and just never take it off.

The news is full of the horrendous (monsoons, bombings, bridge collapses), the looming (foot in mouth disease) and the ridiculous (death threat poetry).

If less people are watching or reading, does it mean less people care? If I trundle out to the end of a dirt road to get my paper, instead of having it delivered to my house, does it have less import? Does not being connected to the world every minute mean it's waiting for me to get back?

Nope. Life, and death, goes on. I don't think we ever truly get a holiday from anything. As surely as I pack a bag with T-shirts and bathing suits, I carry with me a similar satchel of deadlines, story ideas, love, loss, angst and worry.

Don't leave home without it.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Whats that?


August 07, 2007 9:30 PM  

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