Holiday

Since my family (excepting Vickie) left last week, I have been trying to give my brain a break while acclimating to my summer vacation.  This past week, I have:

• driven Vickie around to get her fingerprints taken and paperwork filed for her nursing license.
• gone into Baltimore to see Mr. Greengenes with Billy, Vickie, Danielle, and Erin (sadly I did not get to eat my favorite enchiladas: they were out of the sauce).
• eaten at The Cheesecake Factory with Vickie, Erin, and Danielle before going to see Sex and the City 2.
• consumed 2 Strong Bow Ciders at the Sly Fox with Billy, Brian, Vickie, Erin, Danielle, and a few of her friends.
• taken several naps.
• attempted a 5 mile run, during which I realized I am not yet in good humid-weather shape.
• woke up early in an attempt to watch Andy Roddick, who was playing so badly that his match didn't even get televised.
• repeated my Sunday morning Panera ritual with Danielle and Erin and, this time, Vickie.
• read Jhumpa Lahiri in the sun.
• read Jhumpa Lahiri in the shade.
• ate a snowball (everywhere else, this is called a snow cone).
• failed to find a single summer dress to purchase despite visiting every single store in which I normally like to shop.
• attended a cookout with Billy's family to celebrate Memorial Day and Uncle James' birthday. 
• posted a few blog entries over at Scholar Style Guide.
• watched Step Up 2 the Streets and resolved to found an underground dance crew.
• performed an imaginary jump for joy upon realizing that Soderling defeated Federer in the quarters at the French (though I was bummed that I was at work during the match).

This has been an uncharacteristically busy off-week for me, but it has helped me put enough space between myself and the end of last semester that I am finally starting to feel a little relaxed.  Feels good.

("Holiday" is a heartbreaking and beautiful short story included in Katherine Anne Porter's Collected Stories.  I shed a few tears for Ottilie every time.  The story has a great story, too.  Porter first wrote three different versions in the 1920s, but set them aside because none of them seemed right.  Decades later, she rediscovered the drafts and realized that the first version was the correct one.  Of this experience, she writes, "as for the vexing question which had stopped me short long ago, it had in the course of living settled itself so slowly and deeply and secretly I wondered why I had ever been distressed by it."  I love this idea, that life experience helps us answer the unanswered questions.)