Late Sunday afternoon, I mournfully packed up after two weeks at the cottage. Heavy heart? Hmmmm, maybe just the newly formed lard ass I am lugging around now that the potato chips are gone. I admit I am in the deep depths of post-vacation despair. Seriously, it’s more like despondency. I had the best vacation. I hosted much of my family (some of them are still speaking to me), spent serious quality time with my husband and kids (who now think that midnight swims are normal behaviour), successfully (yes, please read: successfully) water-skied for the first time in fifteen years (everyone was so stunned that mercifully no one took a picture), and tied for 1st Place for our family’s annual Loony Award (must complete daily dip in the lake by noon). I read countless trashy magazines but also managed 2 serious books (Ernest Hemingway: A Moveable Feast being one of my new favourites). I recanted my grievance to Mother Nature as the thermometer hooked around the dock ladder showed the water temperature creeping past 82ºF. With over 300 pictures, I can now gaze all day at the most unbelievable screen saver. It’s time to give back to my community. I’m starting a new support group: SHAM: Shrug Holiday Apathy and Melancholy. United, we will find our way to prosperity and productivity once more … or perhaps another bag of potato chips.