*[NOTE: Masala Mama just couldn’t help herself! She had to give you a quick glimpse into her world away from the real world! But she promises that even though she posted this on FB and Twitter, she did NOT check her FB or Tweet. She is simply checking in. Then Checking out! :)… ]

Writing to the rhythmic sounds of toilet flushing is both helpful and disturbing. Useful for moments when your sleep-deprived lids start to fall unbeknownst to your tapping fingers. Mentally jarring because you begin to dream that you’re trapped between a campground lavatory and three hunter green port-a-potties that are all ventilating in your direction like heat-seeking missiles. Ahhh. The joys and pains of finding the one free outlet in the middle of nature, and watching your electronics recharge next to the low hum of the Pepsi vending machine. If I describe one more outdoorsy detail, you might begin to think I found the Shangri-La where Gary Paulsen penned his first lines of The Hatchet. Not so my friends. I’m in New Hampshire’a Gunstock Mountain Resort. Paulsen’s story took place in Canada. But I did run into two Canucks the other day. Nicest people ever. Canadians that is. Just sayin… Continue reading →