Farwell, my dear friend, Time.*

I like to think I have a sunny disposition. That I'm happy, warm, lovable.

That I spread my joy to all who know me.

Until this week. (Don't worry, next week I'll be fine.)

This week, though, is my last week of summer. And today is the only day that is going to be totally mine. Therefore, I must make it count. I will cross off these six things on my to-do list today: swim, finish reading Rachel Zucker's The Bad Wife Handbook, finish the first draft of a new chapbook, dry the Blue Basil leaves I have no idea what to do with, wrap FD's bday presents while snacking on cheddar cheese and NutThins or raw baby carrots (I'm not much of snacker but I LOVE cheese, to put it mildly), oh, yeah, and complete this blog tag** from Stokes.

Easy enough.

10 years ago I was entering my 4th year of undergrad, just taking filler classes like yoga and ice skating because I finished all my major classes in 3 years and I was going to the gay bars to dance my off ass because I didn't want to be worried with being assaulted by drunken frat boys and I was discovering the world of poetry. It's funny to think today I'm the teacher, preparing for the first-year writing students, who dances around my house while dusting, a Swiffer as my imaginary microphone, and who knows full-well that the world of poetry isn't all that magical.

It's this last week of summer, though, that makes me wish I was a billionaire. That I could teach a few classes here and there when I felt like it. And set up a pretty fat retirement plan for me and FD as well as for both of our families too. And build my prefab dream house with a guest house and two detached offices (one for me and one for FD) all with the arty, expensive appliances and furniture I see in Dwell each month. And give money to worthwhile foundations like Alicia's Voice. And travel to cool places like Japan and India. And do yoga whenever and whereever I want. And hire a cleaning staff, a chef, and, because if I was rich why not have kids and hire a few nannies. Finally, of course, I would be a shareholder of The Grey Colt and wear extra fabulous clothes all the time.

Yeah, that'd be the life. But then if I was billionaire, would I really appreciate the days when I cleaned residential construction sites, sweeping wood and dust into piles and shop vacuuming it all up? Or when I cleaned model homes, how I adored making perfect vacuum lines in the never-used carpets? Or when I worked for a cleaning service and scrubbed the settled cigarette smoke off cheap vinyl floors in some office that could totally be in a 70s sit-com, even though clearly we were in the 90s? (God, no wonder I'm a clean freak!) Or when I managed Hons' clothing resale shop & every Thursday Stokes & I would go to Applebees for dinner & drinks b/c she got a discount there. Or how about when I was the women's clothing department manager at Off Fifth & I went into debt buying hoity toity designer clothes. (No wonder I'm a label whore!) Or my days struggling as a TA, trying to figure out what kind of poet/teacher/woman/person I wanted to be until I finally figured out & became the poet/teacher/woman/person I always wanted to be.

Really would all that be lost if I became a billionaire? How would my values change? Or how would I teach my children values, that is if I decided to have kids?

Maybe it's simpler knowing I start teaching again next Monday and life will regain it's schedule, a schedule that I know & have come to love.

That doesn't mean I won't dream of living on Captiva Island, FL; or in Portland, OR; or Martha's Vineyard; Napa Valley; Boulder, CO; Ireland; Scotland; or even just plain ol' Clevelend, OH.

I guess as much as I don't want to, I need to look on the sunny side of this summer, the good times had, the time that I wasted doing God-knows-what.

Last week of summer, please treat me well. Be kind to me. Help me accomplish my to-do list in the best of moods. And help me smile when I wake up in the morning of the 25th, ready for school to begin again.

*Said in a unbearably tight hug that turns into a sloppy sob fest 08.
**I tag SEM, Chop, & C.L. Jones.

"Weird" followed by *Silence*

FD & I have a tradition of talking before we hit the hay.

Last night I told him I don't have anything to say when he asked about my blog and writing.

Because I'm the new secretary for Alicia's Voice, I've been working on projects the help the cause. But this past weekend E., our president, asked if I wanted to read the police report for Alicia's murder. Of course, I knew the story, but I didn't know the story as recorded for public record. The report has been haunting my sleep and keeping me quiet with many inarticulate thoughts--usually how I get before I start writing.

While in Utah this past October FD, Nate, and I had dinner with Tung-Hui Hu (aka Hui Hui) who said a lot of the writers he knows don't like blogging because it takes away from their "writing" time. For me blogging has always helped my writing. But I feel a change in the tide coming. Blogging is great for my essay writing, but I fear it's not-so great for my poetry writing.

While I would like my poems to work as non-fiction and my non-fiction to work like poems, which I always imagined them to be, I'm discovering they are quite different processes. More to explore.

Anyways I may be slower between posts while I'm digesting things and working out a few new poems in the process. It's nice to be at this point again. I kinda missed writing poetry...

Off-topic, in food news, I found a grass-fed organic animal farm. Monday FD & I are going to pick up some "meats" (said in an orch voice). Today we're going to look at deep freezers. I want to damn all those food books I'm reading as well as hug their authors, tightly, very tightly.

On-topic, The Center for Access to Safety and Justice, a collaboration of Wood County agencies working together in one location to assist those affected by domestic violence, will have its Grand Opening on July 1. The ceremony will be held at Stone Ridge Golf Club in Bowling Green. Please RSVP at aliciasvoice@yahoo.com by Friday, June 27. Together we can!

Cursed

Yes, I'm addicted to a pink whale, my pink pants, and a not-so-pink young adult series of novels about vampires.

Those are things that have been preoccupying me lately. A lot.

Well, those and Alicia's Voice.

And a little black lab puppy who likes to eat the plastic food/water dish in his kennel and poop and puke it out for 3 days straight. Good times.

Seriously, though, Bleu's been awesome lately; I'm really proud of how he's mellowing in his almost-ninth month. Maybe mellowing is too strong of a word, but you get my drift.

Now if only I could stop being addicted to vampire stories and clothes I can't afford. Oh, the joys of consumerism's curse!

In Need of Some Help

Meet my new button man friend.

Sad thing is he doesn't have a name.

Can you help me think of one for him?










Also, Nameless-As-Of-Yet Mr. Button Man has a request for you too:

If you're an artist or vendor, Alicia's Voice is looking for items for its silent auction on June 18th at our annual benefit golf outing. If you're interested in donating an item, gift card, or service, please leave a comment with contact info and I'll get in touch with you. All proceeds go to Alicia's Voice and The Center.

Together We Can!!!