Spring Break 2009

OK. I am posting this. I started writing yesterday, but life is just not cooperating.
The thought of my usual standards have swirled down the porcelin bowl. Take it for what it is – a late post and when you read it know I am probably sitting looking out at a dark parking lot as the sky pours down rain. Also be aware that if you are easily offended, read no further. You have been warned.

I am looking out the window of my office. The sky is blue; the temperature somewhere well above freezing; a slight breeze ripples through the trees. I determine that Mother Nature hates me, as she should have planned this weather for last week when I could have enjoyed it more.

Last week was that ancient, pagan ritual to celebrate the vernal equinox known as Spring Break (Yeah! Partay On Dudes!).

Digression: No, I am not stupid. I know that the vernal equinox is the 22nd. If you think it is the 21st, ask my dad and he can quote chapter and verse. Unfortunately for the vernal equinox, daylight savings time comes early. (Think about it. Come on. College students, time change, body clock resetting. I knew you would get there.)

Spring Break, the pagan celebration of life, excess, and all those You Tube videos that will end so many political careers. I know that many people in the United States believe that we are a bit more spiritually evolved than that Druids, Celts, Greeks, Romans, Egyptians, and any other ancient culture. We tend to think that since we no longer kill goats, sheep and chickens that somehow we are better more enlightened. MTV’s coverage of Spring Break should disabuse us of that notion. The followers of Bacchus live and Dionysus has nothing on them.

I have also had a few Dionysian moments recently.

It all started when I took my Dumbledore sock in progress and myself to the Gaelic Storm concert. I went stagette as Hubby would rather comb his hair with razor wire than go to a concert with me. I like Gaelic Storm, the price was right and I hadn’t been to a concert in a long while. Well, the band takes the stage. I am sitting knitting my sock, drinking a Smithwick when it occurs to me that I have not been in the presence of so many good looking men in super tight jeans in a loooooonnnngggg time. It further occurs to me that I am appreciating the view perhaps more than I should and that I should care about that – but I don’t.

Then I started reading one of the books in the Highlander series by Karen Marie Moning. Let’s just say (avert your eyes if you are easily offended) that any book that uses the words cock, balls, and luscious by page 30 is only going to get more explicit by page 31, and by page 100 the book should be ready to spontaneously combust.

Creepy aside: said book is not so nearly as interesting when your mom reads a random excerpt and downright nausea provoking. Must remember to hide said books from her in future like in high school.

So, now I just have to find a way to find my anatomy and physiology textbook as interesting. Maybe if I put the cover art from the Highlander book on my textbook I can fool myself. On second thought, it has a rather explicit chapter on STD’s. Sobering.