Spring Break. For Real.

April Fool’s has passed, so I declare the following without even a hint of hyperbole: I’m on day 5 of the best vacation. Of my life.

What’s that? You thought the boys were on Spring Break last week? They were. But the only thing that set the ‘break’ apart from any other week was the fact that the boys were home all day and their grandparents were in town. And that near-death experience at Johnston Canyon. And the five pounds of focaccia I consumed from Wild Flour in Banff. Along with the unthinkable amount of easter candy that was laid to rest in my belly.

[Seriously: why must Reese’s make easter eggs that have the perfect engineered chocolate to peanut butter ratio, the perfect combination of salty and sweet.]

Aside from those variables, it was business as usual on the work and volunteer and appointment front. Really, the week was busier than most which left me feeling remarkably unrelaxed.

But I endured the insanity because I had looked at the calendar several times and knew what lay ahead: two weeks with kids in school and no work or volunteering or appointments for me (or anyone needing to be driven by me.)

Silence. Let’s just rest in the beauty of that run-on sentence which is as jealousy-inducing as if I were posting pictures of my all-expenses paid, first class trip to Bora Bora.

Even more significant than having two weeks off from paid work is the fact that I, in a very un-Nicola move, decided not to carpe the ‘free’ hours at my disposal to tend to some of the well-past-due items on my neverending to-do list. Instead, I decided to throw all obligation to the wind…..and enjoy myself. As if I were on vacation.

(But without all the financial obligations, travel arrangements and omnipresent sand. And the sunscreen.)

I haven’t done anything particularly remarkable, or really anything that most people would consider ‘relaxing’. But as everyone knows, when you’re used to juggling with five balls and you go back to juggling only two, it feels like the easiest thing in the world. On Tuesday I went to Costco. On Wednesday I had coffee with friends. On Thursday I went out for breakfast with the professor. On Friday I went to a yoga class. Followed by an 8km walk along the Bow River.

Because, in nature’s equivalent of an April Fool’s joke, the ground was void of snow, the sky was blue and the sun was shining warm and bright. The parking lot at Edworthy Park was filled to overflowing and I saw people carrying coolers in preparation for a lazy afternoon of sitting in the sun, eating burgers and drinking beer.

Who needs glass-bottomed huts over cerulean blue ocean teeming with colorful marine life?!

I used the remainder of my free time to crawl back on the exercise and healthy eating wagon, catch up on Percy’s spelling work…from December and read half a book.

Really, the only unpleasant part of the week was watching Sisters. I’d seen evidence on Rotten Tomatoes of less-than-stellar reviews, but I figured it’s Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, how bad can it be? Plus my neighbor had told me she had gone with some of her friends and laughed her…..head…..off. But I am here to tell you, it is hands down the worst movie I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure who the people are that gave it a 57% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, because as far as I’m concerned it deserves something in the single digits.

Save a humorous scene in the nail salon where Amy Poehler’s character has an exchange with her nail technician regarding the pronunciation of their respective names [Hey one….Muaahra], the movie seemed a mess of hysterics, and un-funny, far-too-long scenes. I fell asleep and even the professor, who is a devoted Amy Poehler fan and prides himself on finishing every movie he starts, eventually turned it off.

Sheesh, ladies. How? Whyyyyyyyy?

No matter, #nicolaonspringbreak (don’t worry, it’s not trending on social media….yet) continues undeterred. I watched half of the Godfather last night. And today promises to be more sun and blue skies with chances of a hike with less-than-enamored boy-children followed by three loads of laundry.

This is living.

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