Accidental Tourists

No Telling

Whew. It’s Spring Break.

The days have been slamming into each other at such a fast clip, and suddenly there’s a bit of stillness. It’s nice. I’m actually faced with a day when I don’t have to be anywhere at any particular time, and the only pressing item on the to-do list is housework.

I’d go outside and spend the day in the sun, but there’s been some meteorological confusion recently and the high here will be in the low 40s today. There’s a bizarre chance of snow tonight. I’m sure the weather will right itself in a few days, though. It’s not like Arkansas is anyone’s Spring Break Destination, so there’s no danger of losing the college-boy tourism dollar.

The danger is when the ground warms back up. That’s when the creepy crawlies set up housekeeping in the garage and odd high corners. Spiders – as long as they’re not furry or unduly large – I can deal with. It’s the snake situation that’s making me nervous. In the fall, there was a local phenomenon that somehow introduced scads of baby copperheads into neighborhoods where they’d not previously visited. Em killed one, a neighbor lady had an incident, and we saw two flattened in the road. I’m not convinced we’ve seen the whole family yet, is all I’m saying.

Since Aruba is out this year (well, every year) it looks like I’ll be close to home. I’m itching to throw a soul-cleansing yard sale, even though it means braving creepy crawlies in both the garage and the attic. Anything’s better than a surprise snake, though. Anything.

I’m praying for this funky-cold weather to continue through Friday, just for good measure. If anyone out there is an expert on the seasonal behavior of Arkansas copperheads, please give me a heads up.

Spring Break Countdown


Spring Break is just one week away. I’m grading like a fiend and shuffling all sorts of paperwork just to ready myself for NINE glorious days of writing just because I want to. It’s a special Spring Break present I’m giving to myself.

I’m fantasizing a string of days when I loll around until noon just playing with words and making delightful strings of nothing in particular. I’m imagining padding around in house shoes and sipping truly hot coffee while warning everyone I’ve got writing to do. And I’ll close the door. And I’ll make whatever I want.

When I’m through with that, I’ll read books that have no academic purpose. I’ll reread Absalom, Absalom again and then some completely ridiculous trash fiction that doesn’t include words like curriculum, comp theory, or paradigm.

I’m going to turn off CNN and finally discover what it feels like not to have my days narrated by Wolf Blitzer.

I’ll drag my typewriter down to the coffee shop and bang away at the keys and drink iced tea out of lidded styrofoam cups. I’ll collect words all day, like I used to before they all became, “use more detail here” and “embed this quote.” After I collect them, I’ll make stunning poems and tape them on the fridge.

That way, every time I walk past them on the way to freshen my coffee, I can remember who I am.