Well, yesterday morning went all to haywire when, as I was washing dishes, my glasses suddenly snapped. I managed to stuff them onto my face and drive to the eyeglass shop, where I presented them to the friendly guy and said, "These are broken, but I don't know how broken, because I can't see anything." Humming Christmas carols, he examined them and informed me, "They are very broken." Maybe there was a flaw in the plastic or something; I was doing absolutely nothing other than wearing them when they snapped. The friendly guy was encouraging, however. He slowly moseyed around the store looking for frames that might fit my lenses, which he eventually found. Then he diddled with them for a long time, still humming carols. And now I have new frames of a sort that do not exactly soothe my vanity; but after sitting around in a blur for half the morning, I decided I loved them.

Things I'm grateful for: (1) This happened on Friday, not the weekend, when I would have had to deal with Tom enthusiastically epoxying the lenses to the busted frame and tying up the loose ends with duct tape. (2) This happened in Portland, not in Harmony, when I would have had to deal with Tom enthusiastically epoxying the lenses to the busted frame and tying up the loose ends with duct tape.

Today will be a pleasant day, as I am prepping for a small dinner party--just my neighbor, and a lasagna, and some Christmas cookies, but I have done zero holiday entertaining this year so I'm looking forward to getting out the nice napkins and such. It will be snowing by the time she arrives, and that will add to the fun. No one will have to drive; we can just enjoy the weather, maybe even go for an after-dinner walk in it to look at the lights, then reconvene for tea and cookies and a warm fire.

The new editing project arrived yesterday, and I'll be teaching my last chapbook session tomorrow, so things are busying up for me. That's fine: I did get a lot accomplished during my enforced writing retreat--among other things, a lesson in synthesizing bits and pieces into larger drafts . . . what works, and also what is just ugly hammering. You might call it the Cinderella-shoe method of bad poem construction.