I mean that. Everyone needs them. Even us creative types need a holiday from our imaginations, from our imaginary social lives and imaginary jobs and imaginary worlds we’ve created and live in so much of the year.

Yet, I find, having been home for coming up on 24 hours, I need an after vacation vacation.

Part of my week away was a re-charge, a chance to get refreshed, an opportunity to refuel my senses,  to invigorate my creativity so I can to get back down to writing with a fresh eyes and words.  The other part was a writers conference which was my chance to talk with like-minded souls who get the whole words on paper, thing. I also got to see friends like my darling Katie-Sue and Rachel5dogs. I reconnected with a long lost cousin who remembered AP’s home security system, and I asked real-live published authors and editors actual questions about the industry. It was a successful vacation, a marvelous conference (even if it lacked the amazing cherry slice from last year’s extravaganza), and a wonderful time being goofy with my friends, Shrinky, and cousin.

So am I refreshed? Revived? Reinvigorated?
Well, now that I’m home and unpacked, no. Actually, I feel remarkably BLAAHHHH.

The odd thing is I like vacations that are filled with doing stuff. My idea of vacation hell is a cruise or a week on the beach with nothing to so or see but water and sand. I like the big block of activity…but I discovered it has to include time for Olbitey with just Oldbitey. Oldbitey needs the opportunity to comb though books stores, and wander though Art Deco exhibits, and sit in Starbucks with a bagel from someplace that KNOWS how to make bagels, and explore gothic revival architechture, and eat at Oldbitey appropriate times (or not at all).

So here I sit, with newly delivered Snyders of Hanover Sourdough goodness in hand, marinating in my aloneness when I should be making corrections to A Basic Renovation (thanks to Glen Thomas for his Punctuation Eyes).

Will I feel this way tomorrow, when I have to go back to work?