Allllllright! We're ten weeks away from vacation-week, everybody! The Dear Boy and I booked a yurt for three nights and, oh boy, I am so excited! The yurt is in the lovely Valley of the Rogue State Park (sounds adventurous, doesn't it?) in southern Oregon. It's on the Rogue River and I see many happy swimmin'-time memories being made. Other than that, I will close out vacation-week with my cousin's wedding on the coast. Yippy skippy! Getting closer and closer.

Also on the agenda, this weekend is a three-day weekend and mine and the Dear Boy's two year anniversary! My goodness. Many good things to look forward to.

Over the weekend I watched Howl, that biographical movie about Allen Ginsberg. I discovered Ginsberg in high school and liked his poems very much. They seemed easy for me to relate to, and written plainly. I never knew about the court case aimed to determine whether his book Howl was obscene. The movie was done very well, James Franco did a stand-up job and the animation sequences were very creative.

It got me thinking about the beatniks and the hipsters of the 50s. It was a time when many, many more young people wrote. Much more than now, I think. Now, everyone is in a band. I guess I should feel okay about writing becoming less popular because, you know, small pond, but it is a bit too bad. It might be nice to have a circle of friends that are all plugging away at the same restless hobby as I am. Maybe because it is my hobby, I imagine round tables at quiet coffee shops, inspiration taken away from people I admire and know quite well. Better than gazing at author photos, maybe. More productive, certainly.