I’m terribly addicted to email, facebook, the blog world and the general internets. Seriously. It’s a problem. But for the next week, I’ll be intentionally signing off and staying off while I’m in the Cayman Islands with my wife’s family. And I mean intentionally because the beach house we are staying at has wifi.

I’m going to read some books, bring a notebook to write long hand, a little guitar and swim trunks. Oh, and a big bottle of whiskey. Otherwise, it is family time, suntime and fun time only until I return. I’ll be thinking of you all and sending sunny (but not sunburned) thoughts your way. Be well!

Hello Spring! Though it seems like you’ve been here six weeks already, today is your official birthday. I think we’ll celebrate by cooking meat outside, drinking fermented grains and knocking over wooden objects with other wooden objects. What’s that you say? You don’t know what I’m mean about that last part? Why Kubb, of course!

Okay….enough cheesy fake dialogue with a season. I just got a little excited about this official tilting of the globe. And I wasn’t joking about the lawn games. We’re kicking this thing off with a remarkable day here in the Pacific Northwest. Not a cloud in the sky, mountains sharp as ever, a high of 66°—can’t complain! Kubb, like bocce, relies on a personal technique and precision. Basically, two teams try to knock over each others blocks with batons in one turn…. And it’s addicting—that hollow clock as a baton strikes a kubb! If you clicked on the wikipedia link, you’ll see the game originates in Scandinavia, which means that most folks stateside don’t know what the hell it is. Among other friends in the know, we’ve often been joined by curious onlookers in the park. After a little education we’ve seen the numbers of kubb-heads on the rise.

[disclaimer: I'm really not a crazy person. The game is fun and goes well with a beer in one hand, but my enthusiasm ends there. And I know I've said "kubb" too many times already.  Kubb.]

In addition to the lawn games, we’re working to get our garden started and I’m dreaming of berry picking in a few short months. It’s a good time to be alive, which reminds me: Huge congratulations to our friends Brooke and Jay on the birth of their daughter Charley! What an amazing time to be brand new. Savor it!

Yesterday was my last class of grad school. The lovely Heather McHugh sent me off into the world with a smile, my mind abuzz with the possibilities of language. Each class session was a two hour walk in her mind, and what a mind it is! It was one of the few times where I feel I really learned through osmosis.

Anyways, we closed out the term with an ingenious event at the swanky Sorrento Hotel thought up by some young fellow at The Stranger. Rather than accepting the normal model of the public reading where literary genius is bestowed upon the audience by the author’s voice, a group gathers to read good works—silently, to themselves!

I spent some time with Louise Glück’s latest book, A Village Life, and Fady Joudah’s, The Earth in the Attic. I’ve read both before, but I liked the idea of connecting the grandness of the space with a lineage I care about (Glück selected Joudah’s book for the Yale prize, and Judah’s book has taught me a lot about ordering a ms.). Plus, I needed a break from Levis as I still have a bit to go on my thesis.

I indulged in good beverage and food, and most importantly, the good company of strangers and friends who had something to say to the world. Reading is important! Books are our friends! (or something like that). Sure, there was some chatter, but the general hush of the room felt special. There was a certain reverence in the room and, ensured by my proximity to Heather, a good and necessary peppering of irreverence, too.

We had plans to head out of town with my folks and a bunch of their college friends this weekend, but my worsening cold kept us home. The weather has been incredible and we didn’t want to abandon all hopes of a special weekend, so we headed down to Golden Gardens for some beach time.

We must have been out there for four hours, just laying on a blanket, snacking a bit, watching the innumerable sailboats crisscrossing the Salish Sea against the backdrop of the razor tipped Olympic Mountains. River crawled around, more content than ever, as I sniffled and coughed and stared out of the mind fog of a true cold.

The beach was mostly populated by families with young children, which, of course, gave us the opportunity to eavesdrop. One particularly loud mother cut through the otherwise peaceful day and got us talking about discipline and public presence. She seemed generally bothered to find herself a parent on a beautiful day, threatening consequences to her sand-kicking daughter only to fail on the follow through. Her monologue got old and was hard to block out, but really, I couldn’t complain. Looking over at River, then at Elle and back at the scene, I knew we had it good. And without any remote claim to perfection, I knew our silent presence wasn’t bothering anyone. Here’s to the hope of continuing that trend.

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P.S. River has a bunch of teeth coming in. He’s pulling himself to standing with greater ease and, like most babies around nine months of age, he is starting to realize he is a being independent of us….which is apparently a hard notion to reconcile.

P.P.S. if you haven’t been following my weekly posts over at the Toadlily blog, check out my latest post on the benefits and drawbacks of electronic submissions.