It's spring vacation. Carol, who's a high school teacher, and Matt, a high school freshman, have a week to go boing! I, who don't have that differentiation to my weeks, will nevertheless fit my shoes with springs and boing along with them.
So, for the next four or five days, there will be intermittent bounces from the Berkshires to Westchester to New York City. Not that this will make much difference to this medium that bounds the globe in seven-league boots. But who doesn't like the idea of sending dispatches from exotic wi-fi cafes in Manhattan or pirate cyberstations from dining room tables whose locations may not be revealed?
Meanwhile, the volcano blasts on, a kind of biblical event that seems to bid us pay attention. Surely Nebuchadnezzar, or whatshisname, Nicodemus, saw this one coming. What's the message? Slow down? Don't neglect the particulars? Show a little respect? People are beginning to ask, Who did we piss off?
Not me. I think it's pretty cool, nature acting out in a Mordor-ish, Sinbad-esque way. Mind you, I'm not stranded in one continent, trying to get home to another. Easy for me to take the side of Eyjafjallajökull. Easy for me to copy and paste Eyjafjallajökull, for that matter. Eyjafjallajökull. Eyjafjallajökull. Eyjafjallajökull. I'll stop. Eyjafjallajökull.
April report for 4/17: Spring is now established. The awww phase is just about over, which is awesome in itself. Not a tree that isn't shapely with green now, a startling condition, an endemic, if you will. Raw, cold, rain has sobered up the vanguard. Blossoms are drawing less attention to themselves. Birds are waiting to see who makes the first move.
And what's with the Red Sox?