Tuesday, June 9, 2009


I've always loved the term holiday when used to refer to time off. The word vacation conjures up memories of road trips, Coppertone, sandy feet and more. Fantastic! A holiday, though, is fabulous. Holidays are decadent, languorous, indulgent. Holidays are slowly sipped wine while the sun sets; vacations are beers drained on the beach. Holidays are sundresses and sandals; vacations are tank tops and flip-flops. Holidays are slowly prepared meals of richly layered flavors; vacations are drive-throughs and Sno-Cones. Vacations are fun, and I am a big fan of fun. But holidays are divine, and like most terms borrowed from the Brits, evoke a feeling of sophistication and refinement that "va-cay" can't touch. Today marks the beginning of a one-week chemo break. Much as I love to spend the summer slathered in oil, slurping down an ice-cold brew while the grill fires up, kicking off my flip-flops as soon my feet hit the sand, that's not in the plans this week. But ... I'm wearing a sundress and have cold mineral water bubbling in a glass. And as soon as I finish this post, I shall slip into my espadrilles, twist my hair into a chignon and put on my sunglasses. I'm headed to the Farmers' Market, where I will select the most fragrant fruit, the ripest vegetables and enough flowers to fill at least four vases. We are on holiday.

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