Rain and rain and rain, and I'm hoping today's travel up north won't be affected. The high school programs have a guest scheduled for tomorrow--a book artist--and she and I are planning to drive up together today. But the vagaries of the snow line are vexing.

For now, I'm going to avoid fretting. The rain is lovely, clicking against the shell of the house. And I had a productive weekend: I finished the little editing project, wrote a bunch of website copy for the The Poetry Kitchen site, read a chunk of Oliver Twist, went for some long walks, and watched a nailbiter football game that my team actually won. Without this weather setback, I'd be in a holiday mood: a teaching week with no driving and no class planning, just floating up north as a passenger and having fun all day playing with paper and thread.

Whatever the weather situation, once this class is behind me, I'll be on Christmas time: desk cleared, classes over till January. Even if the next editing project arrives this week, the schedule will be loose; no one at the press will expect much from me till after the new year. So for a week or so, I'll be home alone all day: reading and writing, reading and writing, and, around the edges, working on plans for upcoming classes.

Time. I'm very happy about the prospect.