Someone once told me vacations are times of relaxation. My family never subscribed to that theory. We worked harder on vacations than we did at home – and we worked damn hard when we were home. Case in point, the made British Isles dash of three years ago. Up by 7, on the move straight away, always a late lunch and a late supper and into bed rarely before 11. Busy busy busy.
This weekend wasn’t that extreme but close. Ran around the UPenn Anthropology and Archaeology Museum on Saturday. There is something absolutely mind-boggling about walking through a small door and nearly crashing into a 5,000 year old vase. Just sitting there on a wooden box like it’s nothing special. That kind of stuff just blows my mind. Not to mention gazing upon the dried remains of aeons old human beings. Heavy stuff, reminders of mortality and the fleeting nature of life and civilizations.
From there on out it was a standard Easter weekend. Mass Saturday night replete with the best attempts of an Irish-Italian parish to perform the most important and complicated service in the liturgical year. Lamb dinner on Sunday and back home in time for beer and the Simpsons.
But I still haven’t gotten much sleep.
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