Give me a good book and a long stretch of time, and almost nothing will stop me from reading it. This talent comes in especially useful during long car trips, like the one I was on last Sunday. There I sat, wedged in like a canned sardine between my sister's dog carrier and my dad's driver seat, with 1,000 miles between Victorville, CA and Fort Sill, OK.
So I read Shakespeare's As You Like It.
Now, I'm in Oklahoma, in brother's army-issued house, enjoying proper air-conditioning for the first time in years. Tomorrow is my nephew Tyson's birthday. He'll be 1-year-old. While waiting down the big event, I've seen the sights, walked the dogs, and played imaginary games with my sister-in-law's daycare children. I do get at least part of the evening to write, but I can barely keep up with my blogging, let alone do any proper writing. It's taken me hours to write this new travel entry about my trip to the Getty. And somtimes I wonder if its worth it. Maybe my time is better spent elsewhere.
Then again, this is vacation. How much can I concentrate with a squealing baby and no less than three tiny dog's mewling for attention?