Back in a few

I recall the tingle of excitement, expanding my lungs several times before slipping underwater to swim the length of a pool on a warm afternoon.

This may be insane to consider, but I've gone all noble at the edges and am telling myself that if I work hard I could actually achieve my summer writing goal without coming up for oxygen. Nearly three weeks remain until a final fling at camping, and then other endeavors and responsibilities will arrive with the season of school. I dare to imagine taking a plunge of cessation from:
1) writing groups (they're wonderful, but the feedback they've provided lately has left me on the brink of significant choices, and it's time to make them);
2) excursions (my son has discovered some regular distractions/activities that ought to keep him busy, and I'll try to be content with treadmill rather than hiking); and
3) blogging (despite the fact I'm so addicted, I will attempt to quit maniacally checking your updates for a bit, but feel free to email any important messages to the address listed under my profile).

I've promised my guys I won't leave off vacuuming or neglect to bake a pie after they fill me a bucket of blackberries. I know I'll pause to savor last-light images out back, as blue sky deepens to reveal pricks of star, and silent bats scoop mosquitoes from the air.

And of course, life's surprises and my shifting moods may render this post moot. But right now with a last gulp of breath I'm submerging. See you at the other end of the pool.