All right, for anyone who has been in suspense since my last post, I decided to take the summer job. Which we all knew I would do. There's only one word for me. Spell it with me:
S-U-C-K-E-R.
When I have been stealing time from the piles of work that surround me and make me feel guilty for doing anything but pay attention to said piles of work, I've actually had some lovely little things happen in the past couple of months. Dad came to visit for spring break, and although I made him sit around while I worked for much too much of the time, we did fit in some fun things, including catching a show of orchids (which Dad thoroughly enjoyed, especially as they reminded him of the beautiful island of Zamboanga in the Philippines) and seeing the National Cathedral, and driving out to Assateague Island to see the wild ponies, or the "Fat Salt Ponies" as Amilynne has named them. (She apparently saw a special on them which stated that they are plump because of the extra dose of salt in their sea-island diets.) They were really cool. Dad also got his first visit to the Atlantic. Here are the pictures to say the thousands of words I'm too impatient to write:
When I have been stealing time from the piles of work that surround me and make me feel guilty for doing anything but pay attention to said piles of work, I've actually had some lovely little things happen in the past couple of months. Dad came to visit for spring break, and although I made him sit around while I worked for much too much of the time, we did fit in some fun things, including catching a show of orchids (which Dad thoroughly enjoyed, especially as they reminded him of the beautiful island of Zamboanga in the Philippines) and seeing the National Cathedral, and driving out to Assateague Island to see the wild ponies, or the "Fat Salt Ponies" as Amilynne has named them. (She apparently saw a special on them which stated that they are plump because of the extra dose of salt in their sea-island diets.) They were really cool. Dad also got his first visit to the Atlantic. Here are the pictures to say the thousands of words I'm too impatient to write:
In other news, I also discovered the amazing poetry of Mary Oliver. The poems are the most real and powerful and spiritual descriptions of the natural world that I think I have ever encountered--I can only read so many before it is too much and I have to set it down for fear of my soul bursting out of my skin. So I'm reading the books slowly, and re-reading poems several times before moving on. Amilynne is mad at me because I told her I think Mary Oliver might be my poet (meaning Billy Collins may have been bumped from the top spot). I don't know. I love them both, but I can't argue with the power of this. Here for your pleasure, a link to several of her poems.
The joy is that this has me writing poetry again. (Yes, Billy Collins, I know that doesn't necessarily please you.) Not that any of it is good yet. But if I'm not writing it's never going to get any better, and it feels good to be in a creative moment, because I've been out of one for a long time.
And it feels good to shake my little fist at the piles of work and say, "Yes! But first this!"
