498: random bits

:: My recurring nightmare this week: I am a ways from campus, usually somewhere on the commute, and I'm already late to thesis seminar; I have not printed out copies of my thesis for the first day. I look at my watch again and again, frustrated and helpless.

:: I've been having a Robert Bly marathon, preparing for a packet, beginning my project of introducing a new local poet to my students each Thursday. I finished my syllabus too, and because I am the sort who likes to plan out the scheduled readings, it took a little while. I'm using two books-on-poetry: The Discovery of Poetry by Frances Mayes and Not Feathers Yet: A Beginner's Guide to the Poetic Life by Lola Haskins, which meant I had to synthesize the topics. And make sure we had enough workshop time. And in-class writing time. And time to read full-length books. And student presentations. I don't, by any means, miss teaching high school, but sometimes, when I look at that five-day-a-week contact with students, I feel envious, that luxury of time. There's so much I had to let go of in the want of balance.

:: Minnow moves so much now. Little tail flips and flickers. I cannot wait to nuzzle her.

:: We are a healing household just now. Penelope's front paw limp is fading, though it's mostly because we've had to keep her home when Zephyr romps the bluffs. Ryan will bring her upstairs to nap in bed with me as compensation. Zeph continues to be oblivious to the hole in his throat; Ryan has peered into the maw and claims no-hole. I hide his plastic-coated pills in gobs of peanut butter, and I have not yet lost a finger. My left hand tingles less, but I am reading thinner books. My burn has a bandage on it now, slathered in aloe, so I cannot know the color, if it is still ripe or not. Ryan is robust, though he is about to mow the lawn, and after I spent some time out there in the garden, I warned him of torrential mosquitoes. We shall see if he gets one in the part in his hair as I did--top and front and itchy--and three on the elbow. I am delicious and stumbly.

:: I dropped my poetry workshop in want of sanity for the fall semester. I didn't need it to fill any slot on my "tan form," though I wanted to work with Joanna Rawson before thesis credits in the spring. Instead, I have prenatal classes at the hospital and prenatal yoga classes with Emily. Now I'm only a grad student and a half; I still have an overload of credits. Manageable. Needed. Spring is going to be easier, save the whole baby-thing.

:: I'm so excited for this book to come out. (Congrats, Stephanie!!)

:: My chapbook received an honorable mention at Accents Publishing. Another editor emailed me telling me the chapbook was close. That's two runner-up type nods and two notes saying it was close. My quiet wishes in my head involve it finding an acceptance by the end of 2010. That sand in the hourglass is fast running out.

:: I'm amazed at how quickly the calendar is filling up. I'm most looking forward to Colleen's alchemy: poetry + yoga event. Also the Healey and Conoley reading, but still, mostly Colleen's event. Last autumn, we went to see Kate Greenstreet and Norma Cole read at Micawber's and it was amazing. It helped that I had fabulous company, and autumn was in the air with the best sort of energy and potential.

:: Autumn is most often my favorite season, mainly because I love going back to school so much, and the summer has done its job recharging me. I love wool sweaters and fall leaves and chowder soups and baked bread. It's all rooted in seasons for me; I think this is a turn the manuscript might take in revision, finding its way into a stronger sense of the full year.