When Love Came to Town . . . .

I know . . .

I know . . .

Where has he been? Did he run away with Xena to a deserted island and leave all of his cares behind?

Well . . no.

I will say my cares seem to matter a whole lot less than they would have this time last year.

Xena came to Texas on July 11th, and we have been busy being happy, playing, taking care of the kids, and planning our future.

We spent 4 beautiful days at the bayhouse, eating shrimp, skinny dipping, and keeping absolutely no schedule what so ever!!!!

We went to San Antonio for the AP teachers conference, and saw this delightful woman at the opening plenary.

We walked on the river and listened to live Jazz, not only here, but the very next day, here. (This place deserves it's very own post!! If you go to San Antonio, you MUST have dinner there, trust me.)We ate wonderful food and drank wonderful drinks, and closed the conference with a talk and Q&A session with Gwen Ifill!!!!! Then, after 4 days of incredible hedonism we drove back home and spent a wonderful week with the kids.

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Work is abysmal right now. . . . . . we went from a 10% cut in hours to a 20% cut this week. . . . . . . . . The drought has decimated my yard . . .We are in a heat wave that has caused my AC to run non-stop, even during the evening, (don't even ask about the electric bill) . . . . . and yet, I am happier than I can ever remember being. . . . . funny how that works.

So, to show you that yes, I'm still alive, here are some photos . . . . Xena goes back on Aug. 6th . . . we will do the long distance thing for a while, and I will return to posting more frequently. . . . .as always, the picture will get bigger when you click them.

Stay tuned!!


These shrimp were swimming in the water only a few hours before we bought them.



When we got home with the kids . . we had pedicures!!


Did I mention how beautiful it was on the Riverwalk?


This is after-all,Texas, so a few days of self-indulgence wouldn't be complete without a chicken-fried steak.

Xena knows if I have too many of these . . . .


It will require one of these for breakfast the next day . .


Taken with my phone, so not as sharp . . .

I'll be back soon . . . .

About That Trip . . . .

So, I'm back from Paradise.

The trip to see Xena was a whirlwind of rushing, packing, waiting, texting, flying, smiling, kissing, laughing, eating, touching, drinking, seeing, loving, relaxing, thinking, planning, driving, crying . . . . . . and peace.

Blessed, blessed peace.

Dear friends, you know how long I've sought that.

So - More about Xena, myself and the trip.

In the last 28 years, I had seen her once. About 9 years ago she showed up at one of my plays, and we spent a bit less than an hour talking about our lives. She had just moved to Miami, and I was married and expecting my 4th child. She went back to Florida, and that was it. I never saw her in the store around the Holidays, as is often the case with other old friends. She was just gone.

Flash forward to Friday morning . . . .

As I'm walking down the Jetway, knowing she will be waiting at the other end, my heart is pounding and the butterflies in my stomach are doing the Riverdance. Was this all in my head? Would there be sparks? Passion? Awkwardness? Would our friendship be intact after physical contact? A million possibilities shouted at me in my head, threatening to drown out the increasing ribaldry the butterflies were producing at the moment. Would I disappoint her? Did I look like hell from the flight? Was my breath fresh? on and on these thoughts were swirling and swirling in my head until I was almost dizzy with them . . . and there she was.

There was no awkward hello, no shy smiles or mindless pleasantries . . . we quite simply fell into each other's arms and engaged in what can only be described as an airport kiss of epic proportions. The buzz of the busy airport and the crowd melted away and we were in this little cocoon of our own making. Everything else just ceased to exist for me. If you've ever seen one of those films where the long separated lovers embrace at the airport or train station or whatever, then you know the scene. It may have lasted 30 or 40 seconds, it may have lasted 20 minutes, I have no idea, I was completely and fully lost in her.

We managed to pull ourselves apart and went hand in hand to retrieve my bag. From there it was breakfast in South Beach with excellent Bloody Marys. After breakfast we took off our shoes and walked along the beach just on the edge of the surf. The rain forced us to cut our stroll short so we went shopping for wine and chocolate, which we then took to our room.

A word about our room.

Thank you HOTWIRE.

Wow. Just a stunning, stunning hotel. For less per night than what our breakfast cost.

I won't bore you (or titillate you) with the details, but the weekend was as perfect as could be hoped. Yes, it rained all weekend - but we didn't plan on leaving the room much anyway. . .

There was a late night room service meal on the balcony, there was a gifted mango fresh off the tree as breakfast in bed, consumed with champagne, there were mojitos by the pool, a perfect dinner at a stellar restaurant, another breakfast in bed with croissants, and coffee, there was a drive to Key Biscayne, and a beautiful couple of hours just watching it rain on the bay while parked on the shore, an incredible Cuban restaurant, . . and then the airport again.

We spent about forty minutes facing each other on a bench, once again oblivious to the world around us as we said our goodbye . . . yes, there was tears . . but it was a nice bookend for the weekend, a bit of symmetry if you will.

Sigh

She will be here in two weeks . . . .

And We Have a Winner . . .

THIS is teh awesome.

This is so full of win, it has officially won the internet.

Game over.

Suck it Twilight fans . . . you don't fuck with the Slayer.

If its Summer, it Must be Time to Read . . . . . ..

Doing any summer reading?

What's that? No time?

Well, yes . . I get that. As an adult, the concept of summer reading is just that - a concept. I suppose if I were say, in the teaching profession, I could wake up each day and attack the pile of yet- to be read books clogging my bookshelf, nightstand, dresser, etc . . But for me, summer is the same as any other time of the year, just with higher electric bills (the castle doesn't cool itself you know), so sadly there is no "summer reading" for me. Who are these people I often wonder, who have all summer to sit on the beach, paperbacks in hand, sipping Pimm's Cups and reading the lighter, less taxing fare that invariably make up the summer reading lists?

I have a theory about those lists. You know the ones, packed with suggestions to read at the beach. These list are usually populated by detective stories, sappy "quirky girl meets awkward boy" stories - (destined to be a film starring Zooey Daschanel, no doubt), and mystery thrillers. I think they are the publishing industry's version of Secretaries Day. A purely invented, self serving event who's only purpose is to increase sales during an otherwise slow time.

Let's think about it, shall we? With the exception of students and teachers and characters in a John Irving novel - who really has the summer off? Students aren't likely to get their 3 month respite from the halls of academia only to immediately pick up a novel, which leaves teachers. Ok - I'll grant you that most teachers I know probably do spend much more time reading in the summer than during the school year, but do the list exist solely to assist them in leisurely reading choices? No I say!

These list are put there to lure the rest of us bibliophiles into buying yet more books that we don't have time to read. An invention of the marketing department to sell more books. Ergo - the summer reading season is a fake holiday, just like Secretaries day, Grandparents day, and all of the other Hallmark holidays.

Why else would I buy a detective novel? It isn't really my genre of choice, ahh but it came off the list at NPR, so it must be right for Summer, right? So every year I buy into the hype and rush to Barnes and Noble in late May to "stock up". I have shelves and shelves full of pastel colored book jackets to attest to my gullibility.

So this year, I resolve not to fall victim to this marketing hype! Join with me, will you? Let's refuse to blindly follow the siren call of these clever publishing Moguls!

Well . . . OK - I do have a four hour flight coming up next week . . I'll need some light reading for that flight. . . . The Four Corners of the Sky looks good for that . . . then there's the trip back home . . one book probably won't last both flights . . . Maybe The School of Essential Ingredients, . .I mean . . it is a novel about a cooking school for Pete's sake! . . . . Then I'll be in San Antonio for a day or two while Xena is at a conference . . . I guess I could read by the pool while I wait for her to get out. . . . . Oh! maybe Stone's Fall for that one. . . . . Oh, and I'm going to spend a weekend at the Bay house . . . . and after reading that excerpt from the Jane Hamilton novel, I really want to see how it turns out. . .

Sigh.


Why doesn't IKEA have a summer bookshelf sale? Now there's a marketing idea I can get behind.

Happy reading guys . . . . .

Happy Bloomsday! Some day Brave Sir Robin will join in the fun in Dublin*, but for today - this awesomeness will have to suffice.



*Of course someday I need to clear my head, stop being afraid and just finish reading the damn book, but that's another post . . .

Two One Ticket to Paradise

Yesterday, Brave Sir Robin purchased round trip tickets to a certain warm and balmy location. Well, the astute among you, (which would be all of my readers, btw), may have figured out who I'm going to visit. My plane takes off in exactly 9 days and 19 hours. Hmmmmph. Patience has never exactly been a virtue of mine. . . . .

Any thoughts as to how I should pass the time?

Too bad it wasn't a one way ticket . . . .

A New Dawn . . . .

Peace. \ˈpēs\

1: a state of tranquility or quiet: as a: freedom from disturbance
2: freedom from disquieting or oppressive thoughts or emotions
3: harmony in personal relations


Contented. \kən-ˈten-təd\

1: feeling or showing satisfaction with one's possessions, status, or situation

Bliss\ˈblis\

1 : complete happiness


Brave Sir Robin
1. All of the above