April Madness

Maybe it’s because the sun has finally come out, or maybe it’s because we finally took our house off the market, but my husband and I seem to be struck with crazy enthusiasm. March Madness has bled over into April. Actually, we didn’t have much madness in March, but April, now that’s a whole new bag of confetti.

To send March off, we will spend next weekend on our boat. It’s always relaxing, even if the weather is nasty, which it usually is on the Oregon coast. We read, play endless games of dueling solitaire, or Blokus, and if it isn’t raining, or the wind isn’t blowing nine-hundred miles per hour, we walk along the jetty, or drive out to one of the beaches. Sometimes we drive either North or South to go on antique/junk shop crawls, and then enjoy a lovely meal of fresh seafood. My husband always takes an early morning stroll around the marina, while I sleep in, snuggled in the warmth of blankets, listening to seagulls...and the backup warning honks of the processing plant’s forklift as its operator loads bait fish on to fishing boats, or unloads their catch of the day. All-in-all, it makes for a very pleasant weekend, and the boat never leaves the dock.

Then April rolls in and the madness begins.

We will spend Easter weekend at a primitive lodge outside of Salem. Located in a state park, it is big, cold, and the upstairs loft is lined with heavy wooden bunk beds. Why would we, and thirty other people, put up with such discomfort? Fun, that’s why. Three years ago it was dubbed The Arms of the Sea Tavern, and everyone dressed in their best pirate garb. This year it has been renamed The Time Traveler’s Tavern, and invitees can wear garb from any time they choose. There will be classes and demos on projects ranging from how to make a flag, to converting a Nurf gun to a ray gun. Saturday night is a big pot luck banquet, then afterwards is the party. By Sunday morning we will be tired, sore from sleeping on plywood, groggy from a bit too many alcoholic beverages, but happy for having had such a great time with fun, crazy people.

The weekend after that, we head for Seattle and the Abney Park Circus at the End of the World concert. This decision, made just last night, is one of our maddest. On a total spur-of-the-moment whim, we reserved tickets, frantically looked for a Best Western close to the concert site, booked a room, then printed out a map so we’d know how to get there, having never been to Seattle before. Afterwards we sat staring at the computer for a minute, then burst out laughing at the craziness of it all. But really, it’s Abney Park, and how can you resist a concert called Circus at the End of the World, where there will be fire eaters, tightrope walkers, and who knows what else? Obviously, we couldn’t.

Toward the end of April comes my birthday. Now, what maddening thing can I come up with for that, I wonder? Buahahahaha...

Focus

The title of this entry really should be Focus—Or the Lack Thereof. I’ve been drifting since last December. Can’t get enthused about anything, which is not like me at all. Oh, I did have a brief flare of excitement at the end of January when my husband and I attended the Abney Park concert and masked ball, but since then nothing. I don’t count a bathroom rehab as the high point of February, although the end results are quite nice. Nope, most of the time I feel like I’m staring off into space.

I put part of the problem down to the weather. In Southern Oregon, it can be gloomy and rainy for months. I suffer from Light Deprivation Syndrome, and by end of January am pretty much climbing the walls due to cabin fever and lack of sunlight. A few weeks ago I attempted to talk my other half into heading for Hawaii, but he wasn’t going for it. He knows by this time I’m grasping at straws, and is smart enough to ignore me. I’ve been told there are special light bulbs you can get that imitate sunlight, but so far I haven’t tried them. I’d have to buy a case and replace every bulb in the house. Not too practical.

So in the meantime, my writing suffers or is ignored, my journal entries stop, my jewelry doesn’t get made, and my garden languishes or is flooded when the pond overflows after a downpour. As for any artwork, I look at a blank sheet of paper and drift off—might as well have snow blindness.

Spring, wherefore art thou?