Spring break the third was occasioned by the Big Scary National Test that all twelfth graders must take to graduate. While my seniors, along with their other teachers, suffered and sweated and stressed, I waved goodbye and headed off for a week at the beach.
My life is good.
I have no amusing adventures to relate about this week of vacation because, frankly, I had no adventures. Quite the opposite: I did absolutely nothing. The SLO and I rented a $4 hotel room in the Kuta beach area, and then proceeded to spend the week doing what one does at a beach. For the SLO, blessed with wonderfully tannable skin, this involved lying on the beach. For me, blessed, or perhaps cursed, with Northern European ancestry, this involved lying on the beach, fully sunscreened and covered in several sarongs, looking therefore ready to enjoy the beaches in, say, Saudi Arabia. This also involved getting tired of the sun and heading away from the beach to browse in used bookstores, purchase books in used bookstores, read the books purchased in used bookstores, and return the books purchased and read, which, of course, began the cycle again. I blew a lot of money on paperbacks.
My life is really good.
Oh, and of course no trip to the beach would be complete without a hideous sunburn; the burn this time, on my back and shoulders and right arm and leg, was so bad that I’m still peeling, three weeks later. Those of you who have seen the pictures can agree: I have lowered my skin cancer onset age to, probably, 25.
My life, at least for the next three years, is good. Thank heaven for spring breaks.