Double Macchiato. Stat.
Snarkily We Roll Along

Spring ReDux

I took a ten day spring vacation, which I highly recommend, and have come back with renewed desire to simplify my life and surroundings and make room for whom and what I love. 

 

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A late spring vacation two hundred miles north is marvelously timed to immerse you once again in lawn carpets of cherry blossoms,   nosy neighbors of nodding  lilacs, and in-your-face shouts of magenta-hued rhododendron and mountain laurel that rise like banks of psychedelic mountains along the roadways. 

 

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It's a sly way to trick Mother Nature and get a second go-round of the ridiculously girlish sumptuousness of the double cherry blossom.

 

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Don't worry about the weather as it will not be perfect. It can't be. Think about it: spring is the hormonal teenager of the seasons, all  fits and starts of balmy, peaceful, cumulus skies that turn on a windsong into plummeting temperatures of despair and fitful storms of soaking rains.  

 

 

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When the fog banks rolls in,  do not lament but find a place with your Great Aunt Gussie's old decor and settle in for a pour-over,  quinoa porridge with almonds and dates, and that stack of Flow and Uppercase you've been carrying around for months.  Or just have a cuppa and a donut and stare at the rain.

 

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And if the weather turns very fierce,  just cozy up with the family and  have your annual  baby spiderman races where the prize is wiping spit up off your forehead with a clean tea towel.  

 

 

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Of course, iti s imperative that you vacation near water - or else what's the point?  Make beach runs as often as the winds allow,  layer sweatshirts and scarves  (don't even think about swim suits), and have a quick outing fortified by thermoses of hot chocolate. Feel the  sand on your feet (still slather sunscreen!)  and take great gulps of briny air that promises better times are coming,

 

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If you have access to a baby, I would recommend bringing it along it as  a squirmy, sandy reminder that the most fun you'll ever have on vacation is when you are a kid at the beach and the ice cream is dripping down your wrist and turning to concrete with the sand and you really believe that you can dig all the way to China.

 

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And when you are ready for the horizon to swallow you up,  walk to the waves, babe in arms, let him be lulled by the sound as you rock back and forth, and then sit in a beach chair for as long as it lasts and pray for many more springs to come. 

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