Vacation begins at 3:30 this afternoon. My first act upon vacationing will be to make my bed (I was running late this morning) and pack my grittiest items of clothing (and one pink sundress. I can’t help myself). After dinner and mariachi, I’m getting out of town.
My family is, in most part, already up at the cabins, barbecuing, chatting with friends, smoking cigars, hiking and swimming. Before the week is out, we will add jumping off rocks into huge puddles of nearly frozen water, floating down rivers, riding string horses, and paddle boating to this venerable list of activities. And as for me, well, I am going to read.
Since the summer started I’ve added a mountain of books to my personal library. And I literally mean mountain as they are stacked up nearly as high as the chair I have been slowly reading them in. The newest collection of Mother Theresa’s letters is competing with a much reread copy of Hopkins poetry and three volumes of Arthurian romance. There is a book about how a bunch of Costa Mesa Campus Crusaders became Orthodox priests, a Vonnegut novel, and a sweeping examination of AIDS in Africa and the epidemic of orphans it is leaving behind (but I finished that one).
This week will be spent outdoors and in books. Now that’s a vacation.
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If you made an as of yet unapproved comment since Wednesday, I had to delete it. Nothing personal of course, but the Spam Guys were working extra hard this weekend and I didn’t want to go through all 800 comments to see if any were real. So if you did, repost it and I will approve!
Cate
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This blog is suffering from a cruel case of boring. You know why? BECAUSE MY LIFE HAS BEEN SUFFERING FROM A CRUEL CASE OF BORING.
That’s about to change.
As of August 15th, I will no longer have a job.
More updates as events warrant.
Things are changing around here.
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When will you ever, Peace, wild wooddove, shy wings shut,
Your round me roaming end, and under be my boughs?
When, when, Peace, will you be my Peace? I’ll not play hypocrite
To own my heart: I yield you do come sometimes; but
That piecemeal peace is poor peace. What pure peace allows
Alarms of wars, the daunting wars, the death of it?
O surely, reaving Peace, my Lord should leave in lieu
Some good! And so he does leave Patience exquisite,
That plumes to Peace thereafter. And when Peace here does house
He comes with work to do, he does not come to coo,
He comes to brood and sit.
~ Gerard Manley Hopkins
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“The best place to see God is in a garden. You can dig for him there.”
~George Bernard Shaw
“What is a farm but a mute gospel?”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
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I am trying to determine what I should do with my life. I oscillate between seeing myself as a teacher, to a writer buried deep in the woods somewhere, to a fashion designer, to a mother of half a dozen kids. The only things these “careers” have in common is that there is no clear path to success (or even a beginning) at any of them.
So tell me, what do you want to do when you grow up, really? Five, ten, fifteen years from now, where do you want to be? I really want to know… (even you lurkers).
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