Two band gigs this week, some catered baking projects, soccer camp every night, my parents arriving for the weekend, a birthday, fall crops to plant, a poetry collection to edit for a publisher, and of course endless lawn mowing.
In the meantime, I have to finish writing a chapter about John Donne, and I have the sensation of a poem in the works, which would be a tonic change from the instructional writing life that has been ruling me for so many months. It's not that The Conversation isn't creative. I'm thinking and constructing and writing hard every day, but inventing this book is not like inventing a poem, and I miss that.
However, as day jobs go, it's a pretty good one. And maybe I should mention that I got an exciting if nebulous phone call--one that hints at growing enthusiasm for the teaching conference among the powers-that-be, great satisfaction with the job that Teresa and I did this summer, and cogitations for expansion. We'll see, we'll see, we'll see.