Wasted Days & Wasted Nights
My plan for the weekend was to finish raking the leaves from the yard. I could have done that, too, had the weekend weather been as it was represented (as late as Thursday night) by our local television stations--75 degrees and sunny. Instead, it rained all weekend--4-6 inches of rain, depending upon where one was in West Michigan––and now the yard is literally flooded. Ducks were swimming around one of our maple trees this morning.
Instead of raking, I spent most of the weekend trying to come up with an idea for a family vacation. We haven't gone anywhere together since I graduated from MFA school, and while I've wandered rather freely to write, Marcia hasn't had a day away since Carlos was born in 2001. But we really can't afford much right now, and even if we could, my "dream vacation" of two weeks in Guatemala researching my novel doesn't seem to interest anyone. We might be able to afford the airfare and the casita (Guatemala is mucho cheapo--probably because it is a bit dicey), but I am not sure what the kids would do, and there is the swine flu problem.
So I have been pouting.
I did give a little speech and a three-poem reading Sunday night at the 20th anniversary party for a meeting I attend. More than a few people were shocked--everyone there knew me, but almost no one knew that I was a writer. The subject has almost never come up in the 18 years I've been attending.
I am way too busy at my day job, and have a raft-load of final papers to grade. With that, however, the semester will be over.
I am anxious to get back to writing, something I haven't done for two weeks or-so. A bit of good news on the writing front would be sweet right now. So, someone, please accept a poem.