I miss doing these confessionals. But it is hard to pick topics. And I am not telling all. There is not enough time in the evening or power for my laptop.
This week is all about taking care of house and home while my husband is visiting family in Northern California. I owe it to him. He does the heavy lifting around here. I am so spoiled I am eating leftovers from dinners he made before he left. I am so overwhelmed with pet duty (a 9-month old high-energy puppy is demanding, even if sweet) that I am eating them. I don’t normally eat leftovers. (They are good meals. But I am usually not a fan of reheated food. One of my many foilables.)
My core-IRL poetry group has met twice without me due to work deadlines and my grandmother’s funeral. I have two poems to read for tomorrow and haven’t started them. I will be late because my husband’s plane comes in just as the meeting begins. I will go late. I miss them. I miss my husband.
My creative non-fiction group looks like it is dissolving. We need a total of seven people to sign up with our teacher again for private lessons. Last month eight of us were all keen on it. (One fellow has returned to China and we don’t know when he’ll be back.) This week, there is waffling. I am sure the economy has a lot to do with it: How to pay for writing lessons when there isn’t enough money for daily needs? Some of the writers are well off, others are just beginning their careers, or have entry-level low paying jobs, or spouses whose incomes are influenced by jobs easily affected by the economy.
qarrtsiluni accepted a fiction piece of mine for their “Journaling the Apocalypse” edition. And I need to make a few fine-tunings (my choice; they took it as is) and record it. I haven’t had a block of time to do so. (If I didn’t blog, I could. How lame is that? I like my distractions.)
I’ve been PoCoing again recently, and it is fun. There’s a piece Michelle started, there’s an abcdeian just for fun, and there’s a birthday work for one of our members. Just lines and words. But good fun and poeming, nonetheless.
I love the word nonetheless.
That is enough for tonight.
Soon I will have to confess that I won the big pot at Texas Hold ‘Em the evening of my grandmother’s funeral (a cousin hosts poker night every Wednesday, and the funeral was Wednesday) and that sometimes it is easier for me to connect with strangers than family and old friends.
Related posts:
We’ll have to come up with some real wickedness for you, Deb. Confessing that you’re eating leftovers is just not going to put in the running with Augustine :-)
Glad that Mark is coming back!
i’m the same way, sometimes i’d rather spend time with strangers than old friends or family and i feel horrible about it afterwards.
Yeah, I miss Whirling Dervishes confessions, Dale. They had fireworks and rumblings!
Odessa, thanks for stopping by. It’s a strange thing, affection for strangers. I have intimacy issues, myself.
I’d have to write a blog post for all the things that make me feel guilty or horrible concerning family. Ugh.
A fun post to read Deb, it’s great getting all this newsy stuff. Congrats on the qarrt acceptance.
About the economy and the writing group–I wonder if people are storing their nuts, just in case? I wish life weren’t so precarious.
Hey, thanks for linking to the review about Louisa’s poems.
ah, dale, yes, to the fact that eating leftovers does not make deb a wild child BUT confessing that she only eats them under extreme circumstances does reveal at least the trace of exorbitant, indulgent behavior. deb, i got your back. we wild girls must stick together and proclaim our wildness for all to see. :) love you!
Hey Christine, Yeah. These are more letters from home than anything. I could write a blog about my family issues, especially since no one reads it. :-) I’d bore myself after a while, though. Perhaps that’s why writers turn to fiction?
Carolee, Thanks for that! I was snorking out loud, thinking about a mini-debate over my leftover-eating wildness.
“reveal at least the trace of exorbitant, indulgent behavior” is going to be my next writing prompt.
Or remember (perhaps) when WD wrote her ten lies. That was a fabulous post and poem.
I need to stretch! Out.
Great confessions.
You have so many poetry projects/creative outlets that I don’t know how you keep up with them.
Congrats on your acceptance in qarrtsiluni, for fiction no less!
I like the word nonetheless, too.