Spring Break

I turned in grades for all my classes today, so now I’m officially on spring break. By rights, I should be dancing in a Speedo under the tropical sun, but instead, I’m just sitting in my bedroom under gloomy Northwest skies. It’s not so bad, really: I’m looking forward to a week at home to catch up on my life, which—as always happens near the end of quarter—has run somewhat out of control.

I never really had the full spring break girls gone wild experience anyway, so I don’t know what I’m missing. The few times I’ve gone away this time of the year it’s usually been skiing; typically, my March vacations have been more of the hot buttered rum type than of the pina colada.

That said, I know no better proof of being fully into the vacation mode than having a rum drink at breakfast time. Perhaps that’s something I can aspire to at some point during the next six days.

In any case, this break is just a tease; a week off gives you just enough time to begin slipping into a calmer pace, then wham! Back to work.

I’m not complaining (whenever anyone says that they are); I’m lucky, as an academic to get these regularly-scheduled breaks, even if they’re not as long as I—and certainly my students—would prefer.

My challenge is not to be too ambitious about what I hope to accomplish. At this point, all I have on tap is reading half a dozen books, riding at least 50 miles a day, getting completely set up for my birthday party and the Half-Century Ralleycat, spending some extended periods of time with Jen and Mimi, saving the planet, curing cancer, and watching the complete ninth season of the Simpsons on DVD.

Good thing I’m not heading off to Fort Lauderdale or Jamaica; I’d never get a thing done, although with pina coladas for breakfast, I might not mind.