I'm about to dash off to the airport to pick up my boys who were thrilled to stay a few extra days in Florida with family while I went home to host a workshop and dive into planning for fall. I've been on a bit of an unexpected media break as I have also been fighting off a yucky summer cold and spending lots of quiet down time devouring the book Gone Girl, the first piece of fiction I've read in a really long time, and so so good in that dark, indulgent, and razor sharp-writing sort way. So, I wanted to pop in lest you think I might be buried under a sandcastle somewhere here on the island. I've merely been having a passionate summer tryst with my couch.
Summers are always a bit unstructured and wacky for us with my husband off of work and the kids running a bit amok between vacations, late-nights and camp sprinkled in here and there. There is not a lot of predictability which is perfectly wonderful for summer spontaneity, but I often forget the simplest of things like what day it is and if I've eaten breakfast yet. Even I've been staying up past my bedtime and waking past the 7am hour, which clearly is out of rhythm with my usual 5:30 wake-up and writing routine hence the lack of blog posts here. August has snuck in decadently unhurried but also with the sense that this time is fleeting, so I am indulging in just taking it as it comes sans expectations or guilt about how it's all playing out. There's still so much sweetness and sunshine to enjoy before the mad rush of school mornings is upon us once again.
The wild rumpus is far from over.