Approximately the weekend.

All week, I've had the luxury of only online stuff in my class, ergo loads of time to grade and otherwise get caught up. It has been satisfying.

Today was a little frantic, what with my having planned meetings back to back that I knew would, in reality, require a holodeck and instantaneous arrivals, etc., to make happen. Things, in other words, that are not part of the TechPack I got when I signed up for this gig.

What? There was no TechPack? Why am I only realizing this NOW?

Well, anyway, today I ran hither and yon, a little bit late to this, a little bit later to that, quite a bit late to the next thing. I got to have breakfast with my daughter and granddaughters. I got a little grading done but not all that I hoped to do. I got to talk with some of my favorite people about handmade books, which was the best. And I got to talk to my friend about my manuscript, and then make a delicious dinner, and then see Whiskey Tango Foxtrot with Dr. Write and Claire. So, you know, it was a pretty good day. Full. Good.

Tomorrow is the proximal weekend, by which I mean the day adjacent to the weekend, Friday, which is redolent of weekend, whose color is tinged with weekend, which sounds like the weekend. Yes, I could go through all the senses, but you get my drift. It's also the weekend that is adjacent to spring break, so, you know. Extra. Times a billion. That's how weekend-y/spring break-y tomorrow is.

So the fact that I (a) have to teach a class in the morning and then (b) go to a meeting are mere blips on the weekend screen. That's how powerful this weekend is. It is extra-strength. It has the power to make a Friday with regular commitments feel like a mere prelude to the wonder.

Things I am going to do on my weekend-shading-into-spring-break:

(a) sleep till I wake up
(b) work out
(c) make notebooks with my grandson
(d) see two movies
(e) work on my manuscript until it is pristine
(f) wear red shoes

I'm trying to keep my agenda simple because item (e) might be a big one, and also I may need some room for invention and surprise. We'll see. I have high if quiet hopes.

this is the beginning of the Library of Bookforms,
which we decided we will annotate for all sorts of purposes.

The Megastore recommends, spring for real edition.

like these.

1. Red shoes. People, we have come through, just about, a long and justly wintry winter. And I am
not tempting the weather gods--see, I said 'just about,' so I know--we still have some bluster and sleet and whatnot. Plenty of rain, and so forth.

Still: don't tell me you're not tired of those heavy boots and sturdy waterproof shoes you've been wearing. Your feet want a little dancing. They want lightness. In a word, they want red.

Red shoes are pretty much the most reliable of the frivolous shoe colors. Red is elemental. Since it's elemental, I say we all decide it's a neutral. Let's all buy new sneakers, red ones, and wear them with everything. Sneakers have the virtue of being practical, but red sneakers? lightweight ones? they will serve your dancing and lightness needs with aplomb.

basically, like this, but
with pancakes.

2. Eating breakfast with the door open. Sure, you might not have a kitchen that opens to the outside, but maybe you have access to a window? The day is still young, the chill is still in the air, but the light is starting to filter through the leaves, and that light, that light is the reason. You know that light is both particle and wave. It is material, my friends, and there is no good reason in this world, when the chill is forecasting a later warmth, that you should not eat your oatmeal with some of that material light adding savor to the whole deal. Just try it. And for heaven's sake, wear a sweater.





3. Inspecting the yard. Did you know that your tulips are cutting

this is LITERALLY happening right now.

through the dirt? and probably, also, your crocuses? Also, that little project over there in the corner of the yard, the one you didn't finish last October? Still needs to be finished. But hey, the rose canes are reddening and the leaves are just about to pop. Not to mention all that blue flax. Things are happening out there--you don't want to miss it!

so close!
(dave mcmanus,
'brokenwing resting,'
on flickr)

4. Spring break. Shhhhhhhh--can you hear it? It's getting closer. Super close. Almost here. I know this is counterintuitive, but I think I can literally taste it.

Working on getting ready to get ready to work on my manuscript.

That's what spring break is for.

Thus far:

all the words in my manuscript, minus acknowledgements, Table of Contents, epigraph, title. 

As it turns out, I use a lot of similes. Apparently.

In other news, I wore this yesterday:

Outfit of the Day, Monochrome Division.

This was a successful outfit, in my opinion, in that the hem of the jacket and the hem of the dress rhymed, structurally, in their flippiness, and also the polka dots of the scarf added whimsy.

Today, I wore a bright yellow sweater that I had to go look for in my Auxiliary Sweater Box (TM) because I have too many sweaters to actually keep track of, apparently. I also pulled out one of my favorite spring scarves. That's because today was light filled and glorious. It was peerless. It felt like spring.

It is not yet spring (I keep telling myself before I start going barelegged out into the still-winter). But it felt like it today. It feels like it.

In other other news: yesterday I had a quick afternoon respite with two granddaughters while their mom went to the dentist. It also was glorious and peerless:

Ballerina Gwen

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on Feb 24, 2016 at 12:53pm PST

Naomi

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on Feb 24, 2016 at 12:53pm PST

And tomorrow is Publication Studies, where we'll talk to our chapbook contest winner and start to develop the ideas for the plan that will turn that manuscript into a book. Just twenty two minutes until it's Friday. Things are looking up.

Good Lord.

It's been more than a week! The silence(-ish) has been good for me.

•|•

Random bits:

The desert in the springtime is glorious. Bright, clear, dry, warm. Smells like orange blossom. I recommend it.

•|•

Seeing the people you love in faraway places is both wonderful and difficult. Even from the very first moment, I find I have to stop my mind from ticking with the moments passing. Time feels loud, if you let it. So you can't let it loom, all tickety-tock. But it's still there, all tickety-tock.

•|•

That said: we went on little hikes and to a children's museum and had a picnic here and shrimp al diablo there (pro tip: at Mexican restaurants in Mesa, when they say "al diablo" they are not kidding around). We watched movies and made drawings and built edifices with Lincoln Logs. It was wonderful. And then difficult, because we had to leave.

•|•

But you do have to leave. People have things to do, the people there, and you yourself also, your own little long list of things you must do.

•|•

The best thing about spring break: going to see the people you love.

The other best thing about spring break: being in your own home, in your own place, quiet, just you and the dog, doing the things on your list. [Bruiser's list: bark at the UPS guy; take a nap; take a nap in an auxiliary location; bark at kids walking home from school; backup napping.]

•|•

The list: long, but elastic. To include:

• catching up on grading (nowhere near complete); 
• read book for book group (making progress); 
• mail this and that (check); 
• get visa for travel to China (gaa!); 
• put away heavy woolen clothing (check!); 
• count the weeks till the semester is over (it's moving right along, folks); 
• nag Scotland daughter perpetually about her trip to America (I'm very good at this);
• video and other chat with all sorts of children and grandchildren (who needs to grade?);
• visit daughter and grandson and granddaughter (check! at Costco!); 
• read other book compulsively (done!); 
• eat Girl Scout cookies (Q: how many is too many?). 
• Laundry and assorted chores. 

•|•

One thing that always makes me feel like spring is coming: new white jeans. I found some perfect ones, you guys. I will be wearing them substantially before Memorial Day, and I will be the vernal equinoctial harbinger--one of them, anyway--of tulips, snowdrops, crocus, and all the light to come.