Arizona in tacos.

"Let's live it up when we go to Arizona," I told the historian. Not like it was an actual proposal. Maybe more like a directive.

"Yes, let's!" he replied, because he is good-natured like that, and also living it up was maybe a more or less agreeable proposition, as far as directives go.

"And let's eat tacos every day," I said, by way of an addendum. A rider on the directive, if you will.

"Sure," he said, for the same reasons as above.

Herewith: a taco report.

DAY 1: We eat pizza, at Organ Stop Pizza. Also, we see Zootopia. Altogether a good way to go, day 1.

DAY 2: We head to Tucson. We arrive at the borders of Tucson just about lunchtime. I Google and FourSquare Tanias.

Waiting for #tacos

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on May 27, 2016 at 12:28pm PDT

Tania's is excellent. After a rather lengthy tutorial from the proprietor, in which we are told that it would be extra foolish not to get the maximum combo, if we want tacos, because: side of rice and beans plus a beverage!, and in which my daughter-in-law, upon requesting black beans, gets this in reply: "No no no no, this is Sonora, not New York!"--which basically means "pinto beans"--we all order excellent plates: three tacos for me (plus rice + beans + a strawberry agua fresca), including a potato and green chile one, a cauliflower one, and a carnitas one. The historian gets three various vegetable tacos, and so on. It was an auspicious and perfect beginning to our taco extravaganza

After some saguaros on the east side of Saguaro National Park, and a visit to my middle school (!):


 


 we find our way to the very first Mexican food restaurant I ever ate at in my life. IN MY LIFE.

I have a green corn tamale. Actually, I order two of them. They are enormous. However, I do not have a good sauce situation. Also, and to be truthful, I possibly had eaten more tacos, at Tanias, than I had already digested. Still, and in any case, it is meaningful to me to eat at Cafe Molina. I ate there the first time when I was in sixth grade. That, plus the middle school, plus being there with people I loved, plus the chips and salsa: saturated with meaning. The tamale qua tamale is kind of beside the point.

 DAYS 3 & 4 & 5: We are over saturated with the taco quest. My son had chosen some chorizo concoction at Casa Molina and it is having lingering effects, the details of which I will deftly leave to the side. We go to a Village Inn for breakfast and have various snacks at the cafe in the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum. Perfectly good and fine.

A full bristle of cacti

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on May 28, 2016 at 7:01pm PDT

On our way home from Tucson, I admit I ate an apple pie from McDonald's. The next day, we have naps and sandwiches while we continue to recover from our road trip. Also: coffee cake, which one grandson helps me whip up, and which is estimable.

On Memorial Day, we go for a wander at the park, and eat at Flower Child--Dr. Write's recommendation, entirely wonderful--just before we have a visit to the butterfly sanctuary. On the way home, we buy a pineapple and a watermelon and stuff to make my best pasta salad, and a loaf of French bread. These comestibles restore us further.

I hope you're seeing that I am capable of setting an agenda aside if it is for the greater good.

We also get a babysitter for the boys, and see Sing Street, at which we eat popcorn.

DAY 6: Today is a glorious day in tacos. We eat at Mucha Lucha, which is my son's favorite Mexican
restaurant. I have three shrimp tacos and they are pretty much everything a taco should be. The line is just about out the door the whole time we're there, so we have to be patient (which I can totally do, and be), and we have to be prepared (me also). When I take my tacos to the table where the little boys are each eating a small quesadilla, and where the historian is eating a large vegetarian quesadilla, and my son is eating a burrito, and my daughter-in-law is eating street tacos, we all heave a collective sigh of joy, the ultimate joy of sublime tacos entirely achieved.

Luchador uno

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on May 31, 2016 at 1:37pm PDT

Luchador dos

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on May 31, 2016 at 1:37pm PDT

In conclusion, here are the lessons we learned:

 1. Chorizo is dangerous. Proceed with caution.

2. A taco agenda, while worthy as agendas go, is, like all agendas, to be taken up with humility and the willingness to adjust, especially where there is new data of which to take account. Data that is chorizo-inflected, for instance.

3. Returning to one's (taco) agenda is, however, a joy. A taco-centric vacation is an excellent vacation, even if the center does not hold, at least not entirely, when chorizo is involved.

Category error.

We got in to the airport in plenty of times, because like the rest of America, we were afraid of long ass TSA lines. Which fears, of course, proved to be unfounded. I don't want to brag, but you're looking at a TSA Pre holder here, who knows how that happened, but I am totally putting it down to unspecified character strengths. So we sailed through, leaving us plenty of time to do airport things, such as:

• Buying a Times (the Thursday edition is the best edition);
• Logging on to the wireless;
• Etc.

...and then realizing that it was elevenses, and therefore time for a snack.

"I don't want to eat a lot, but I need a snack," I declared. "Because I'm a little bit hungry."

"Well, it sounds like you'd better find something," said the historian.

I perused my options, which, as per usual, were thin. Dubious looking cookie at the coffee shop? Bagel? Bag of potato chips (a perennially trusted option)? Yogurt cups? With granola on top?

Well, I wandered past the airport Wendy's, the very same Wendy's that was once the site of a previous bad airport elevenses episode. Be that as may be: I saw a fancy picture of fries (where admittedly I have a weakness) with cheese on them, and also chopped peppers. Yes, America: I fell prey to a marketing strategy, in the form of fries. Ghost pepper fries.

I'm sure you can imagine that I thought I would be getting actual cheese, in its grated form, on my fries. But I watched as the behind-the-counter guy ladled the cheese sauce over the fries he'd harvested from the fry warmer, I thought, oh, right. Cheese SAUCE.

A SMALL DIGRESSION ON CHEESE SAUCE: There are people in my life who love what we call 'nacho cheese,' e.g. the Kraft product that is sold in jars to be heated and consumed with tortilla chips. See also: queso. I find this product repugnant. To me, this product bears the same relation to cheese that Pringles bear to actual potato chips, or that butter-flavored spray bears to actual butter, or any gross simulacrum to its legitimate forebear. However: there hath not been queso/nacho cheese/cheese product in my house for a long time. Maybe this is why, though I should have known better, I did not, and was led astray by the attractive picture of the grated cheese, aka the ghost pepper fries.

Did I eat the fries? Yes I did. Some of them. Some of them were not bad, or not fatally bad, anyway. In my defense, I was hungry. Okay, I know: that's not a real defense. 

Did the historian eat some? Yes, yes he did--in fact, he finished them up, when there was too much of the cheese sauce drowning the remaining few potatoes. Would I order them again? Jeez, I hope not. But the airport elevenses might be a felicity condition for bad snack choices, and that's the (possible) truth.

In Tempe,

People really like to play Minecraft. Also: eat pizza and listen to organ music. Also: watch Zootopia.

Today in Hank Williams news.

I'm continuing to work on my little Hank Williams obsession. I am, of course, working on a poem, or something that might become a poem.

Today, for instance, I found out that Williams was born with a spine issue, called spina bifida occulta. It later caused him great pain, which both exacerbated and instantiated his alcohol use and the pain drugs he sought. That 'occulta' is giving me something to work with, it must be acknowledged.

I've been listening to a Hank Williams playlist I made, which includes songs from The Lost Notebooks of Hank Williams. This playlist is, of course, open to suggestions of other songs I should include.


I


I asked Ann Cannon today, in an email:

...and her answer did not disappoint, including a rundown on the instruction she received from her dad about how Hank Williams sang the songs of the people, and so forth, and how, despite her past-Ann eyeball rolling, present-Ann loves Hank Williams, especially the classics.

Today, I found out that there is some disagreement about whether Hank Williams believed the gospel songs he wrote or not. (In related news, I read Hilton Als today about Beyonce (I know. I am in the grips.) and how she's performing this and that because she wants to be more serious and still make money. GET A GRIP America, musicians who record music want to make money. (There, I said it.)) Anyway, I'm interested not only in the state of Hank Williams' music but in the state of his soul, however he exhibited, recorded, wrote, and performed it.

I am interested in any and all Hank Williams leads, intelligence, sources. Also opinions. Please direct me, internet. I am on a mission.

The Megastore recommends: snap out of it edition.

I am having my classic post-semester let down: feeling generally exhausted, judging my own character harshly, eating Pop-Tarts. (That last item may be just this current post-semester.)

Did I once do two-a-days, while I was working my ass off and keeping my schedule humming like a top? Well, this now seems absurd and stupid, and also my shoulders hurt. Did I once hop out of bed at the crack of dawn, ready to meet the day? Don't be ridiculous. Of course not. Still, I have a few recommendations. For myself, I guess, but sometimes I need to give myself advice, don't you?

1. Wear the shoes you bought awhile ago. I can't be the only person who shops ahead--thinking about spring when there's still snow on the ground, for instance, or even thinking about summer when it's still raining like mad. Cold rain, too, not a gentle 'give the flowers a drink' rain--raining like a mad dog.

But when the rain stops, or pauses, it's good to put on the sandals you bought back in, like, March. Admire the fact that they are red, and that they fit your feet, and--hey!--that they're comfortable. Past you was so freaking smart. Past you foresaw the need for comfortable red sandals that fit, and present you is reaping the benefits. Maybe present you isn't so bad after all? Well, at least present you has cute feet.

2. Smell the roses. No, literally: the literal roses are starting to bloom. How bad can things really be, if there are roses, roses in bud, the first blooms, and many more roses to come (just spitballing here, from previous nature data)?

3. Pick up a book you bought a year ago. Just a week or so ago, I was chatting with my Scotland daughter, who recommended a crime/detective series set in Aberdeenshire in the early Reformation period. (I know! right up my alley!) I was all, Ima go read that. So I looked to see if it was downloadable as a Kindle book, but no. So then I thought, FINE I'll buy it. But Amazon remarked to me that lo, I had purchased this book a year before. For a few seconds, I had a giant question mark hovering over my head, and then I thought WAIT and went to my living room, where the first book in the series sat on my coffee table, where it has been sitting for a whole year. I bought it a year ago because my daughter recommended it to me then, also. This time I am humming along in it and it is grand. Good times!

4. Listen to the same album over and over. And over and over. It can be Junk of the Heart by the Kooks, recommended to you by your son. Or it can be Lemonade, recommended to you by the universe because it is just that good. Either way, you aren't going to go wrong whatsoever. Pro tip: both albums can be worked out to nicely.

5. Second wake up. I know, not everyone can do this, and those of you who can't are going to gnash your teeth at me. But if you are so lucky that you can, the way it works is this: you get up at around 7. You go get the paper. You sit on your couch in your nightie and robe and read it for awhile. You mope around the kitchen, check your Instagram, think dire thoughts, consider a cup of tea. Eat a half banana. Then you grab your reformation crime/detective series novel set in Aberdeenshire and get back under the covers. You read three pages and then curl back into sleep. If you've timed things right, the sheets are probably still warm. Sleep till whenever.

Will you have wasted a precious hour or so in this fashion? I submit to you that this is the wrong way to look at it. The way to look at it is you will be well-rested for the rest of your day, and what could be wrong with that? Nothing, America. Nothing whatsoever.

The Megastore FAQ: Mid-May edition.

Q: How long since the semester ended?

A: Depends on the meaning of 'over.' It's been thirteen days since I finished my grades. But little summer projects, work-related, are lining up one two three four five with no end in sight.

Q: Have you learned to say NO yet?

A: No. Not really.

Q: What flowers have you planted?

A: A heliotrope and three miniature roses.

Q: Is that enough flowers?

A: It is the opposite of enough flowers. It is a scarcity of flowers. It is one trillionth of the flowers I need to plant.

Q: But don't you already have flowers blooming in your yard?

A: Sure. I guess.

Q: So...isn't 'one trillionth' an exaggeration, really?

A: No, it is 'a hyperbole.'

Q: What's the difference? Doesn't 'hyperbole' mean 'exaggeration'?

A: 'Hyperbole' means 'exaggeration for rhetorical effect.' For rhetorical effect.

Q: Seems like splitting hairs.

A: Yes, but for rhetorical effect. So, totally justified.

Running all over and not standing still.

Today, I am thinking about the summers of yesteryear, when I ate my breakfast on the porch and under the trees and flowers and so forth.  Leisurely, is what I'm saying. Why is there so far not enough leisure? Am I forgetting what leisure is? Maybe this is leisure? If so, I feel that the character of leisure has changed, and I am not in favor of that.

In other news, things could be tidier around here.

Even so: while hopping into the car to go hither and yon today, I did manage to notice this:

Breeze

A video posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on May 16, 2016 at 10:08am PDT

and I felt like this was something to aspire to. Slow motion flowers, and a breeze. This is the new desideratum. This, and maybe breakfast on the porch. And clean counters. But I would be happy with just this.

Top 5.

1. My washing machine now requires no intervention on my part to finish a cycle. For approximately years, my washing machine has decided to take a little sabbatical in the middle of each and every load, so that when I would lift the lid to move the wet clothes to the dryer, there they would be, still sitting in soapy water.

Of course I figured out various workarounds, including (a) a heavy weight on top of the lid, (b) a weight on top of the weight, and (c) hovering around the machine at the midpoint of every wash cycle so I could goose it along. As I say, approximately years of this. But on Tuesday I said ENOUGH and called a repairman.

As I led him back to the laundry room, explaining my problem, I concluded by saying, 'But you probably know what's wrong,' and he said, like a genius and a wizard, 'I do, just from your explanation.' Which: obviously I'm a champion explainer, but geez, I should have had this fixed approximately YEARS AGO.

2. Finally watched this and wow. (Also, to quote a friend on FB, I have been doing little but reading feminist critiques of Lemonade, then critiques of the critiques.) Also: finally got to talk to Scotland daughter about it, a reward in and of itself.

3. Suave open-faced sandwiches for lunch, at Finn's with Ann. Seated outside where the sun was bright and balmy. Topics of conversation: the situation in the Environmental Humanities program up at the U (verdict: those administrators sure could have handled a complicated situation better); The Good Wife finale (verdict: TERRIBLE).

4. The library's robot has informed me that the Hank Williams biography I requested is IN.

5. I found a perfect pair of shoes today that I did not buy (bad call!), but which I am going back to buy tomorrow. I plan to be there the minute the store opens. Lesson learned.

how it is.

Today, I took my general unwillingness to spring from the bed in the morning and joyfully get about the day's business to a new level (that was a long modifier in the middle there, sorry about that!). Which is to say that I didn't get out of bed until NINE O'CLOCK. From this, I hypothesize:

1. I am carrying around a massive sleep deficit and will not be arising early for weeks and perhaps months to come.
2. I am a lazy brat.
3. both (a) and (b) above.

Well, be that as may be, I arose in a cold, quiet house. (I did open my eyes enough to chat with the historian a couple of times. I'm not a barbarian.) I worked out. I showered. I ate pancakes. (The first pancakes of summer!) 

We have a young friend living with us for awhile. He's a musician. He's working on composing some new songs. I heard some epic drumming from downstairs, because he can and does play multiple instruments. That drumming helped me

1. write notes for two new poems
2. consider a few things I needed at Target (a new trowel, gardening gloves, pruning shears)
3. call the appliance repair guys so they can come fix my washing machine, which has been doing this weird stop-in-the-middle-of-a-cycle for about two years now, so, you know, now seems like a good time to get that taken care of

I also used the drumming to motivate me to

1. load the dishwasher
2. put away a vast amount of clean dishes and other stuff that had been hanging out on my counter for awhile
3. straighten up my laundry room, because I don't need that appliance repair guy judging me like a judgmental bastard

The quiet: the people, it is a blessed, blessed balm to me.

Soon, I will take up what I believe is my big project of the summer, which has something to do with religious language. Maybe archaic and religious. Anyway, why this is a language I keep returning to--I am going to investigate that. The quiet seems like a good locus for a project like that. I will return and report. Maybe. Or maybe I will just keep it to myself, like a novitiate who has taken a vow of silence.

Things I am apparently interested in.

Tonight, I briefly checked out an article in the New Yorker that has to do with new evidence, in the form of feces and its micro-contents, of the route Hannibal took over the Alps with his fabled elephants. Which are--surprise!--probably unlikely.

Once the article, which was quite focused, got down to the tapeworms, I was, quite frankly, out. I mean, elephants crossing the Alps in olden times, sure, but not the dung. The dung is right out. However, I get it that your mileage may vary on this. It is super science-y, for instance.

However! I am currently, apparently, on a quest to find out about a song that Hank Williams wrote with Lawton Williams called 'Between You and God and Me.' It appears on the detailed song list of Williams' Songwriters Hall of Fame page. It was published by Western Hills Music Co., although I don't know when. It doesn't seem to have been recorded, by Hank Williams or anyone else.

I had a conversation about this with my son, the musician, tonight. 'Maybe it's a really crappy song,' he offered, given the sparse facts available.

'Oh, I don't think so,' I said. 'Not in my imagination.' Because this song has taken up territory there. At the suggestion of my son, I wrote an information request to a Library of Congress librarian:

Hello there, 

I'm looking for information about a song that was co-authored by Hank Williams and Lawton Williams, titled 'Between You and God and Me.' It's listed as a song on the Hank Williams Songwriters Hall of Fame page. 

I'd like to know anything at all about the song, including lyrics, whether it was ever recorded, and if there was sheet music of any kind published. I'm a poet, and that's what I'd use this information for --a poem.

Thanks for any help you can give me-- 

htms

Please wish me and the librarians of the Library of Congress, and my mostly hypothetical poem, luck.

Note to my beautiful day.

First of all, you started a little too early. As in, I had to be up and at 'em and out the door in order to be somewhere by 8:30-ish, all in preparation for a long sit in hard seats. Sort of a sketchy beginning, to be frank, but it picked up from there:

• Sugar doughnut at the breakfast buffet, along with
• Bacon.
• I got to line up then sit with some of my favorite people, and
• I saw several students of mine, in their beautiful graduation attire, mortar boards atop, and
• That just plain made my heart soar.

Literally nothing is like the inspiration you feel when you hear the stories of people who figure out how to attain an educational goal, despite the odds and the obstacles and the heartbreaks and the sacrifices. Nothing like it at all, even when you're in the middle of a long sit in hard seats. (Fueled by doughnuts and bacon, though, to give the breakfast it's due.)

Not to mention celebrating a grandson's birthday with frozen yogurt:

Birthday froyo extravaganza! #happybirthdayalex

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on May 6, 2016 at 1:25pm PDT

...along with Harry Potter birthday widget gifts, and a visit afterward with the family. And then a wonderful movie, and Mexican food.

I took such pleasure in all of this, but maybe most of all the parts that weren't about me--the parts of which I was only a part, a small part.

Thanks, beautiful day, for reminding me of this--

htms

Today,

I sent my comments to groups for their group projects, and to individuals for their individual work. I ate granola for breakfast. I dug deep, I trusted and believed, I used my body as my equipment (morning workout). I hung up my red skirt and put away my yellow tee shirt. I wore white jeans.

I scampered away from grading to attend a movie that is slightly too embarrassing to mention. Okay, The Boss. And snuck my salad and yogurt and orange in there like a thief in the night. And emerged feeling slightly better for having laughed. Not that I was in a state where my mood needed rescuing.

I found my academic robe. Okay, I got it out of the trunk of my car. I submitted all my grades for my composition sections. I made soft tacos for Cinco de Mayo. I ate a zillion cookies. In my defense they were tiny. I read the final projects for Publication Studies and was moved and impressed. I submitted those grades. Which makes me--in case you're keeping score--through with grading before graduation. If it seems like I'm gloating, it's only because I am.

things I am looking forward to once my grades are in.

• planting flowers. loads of them.
• assembling delicious dinners with lots of vegetables. lots.
• wearing white clothes like crazy.
• waking up whenever.
• sleeping with the fan on.
• reading all the books that are waiting for me to read them. maybe Moby Dick.
• watching that damn Lemonade visual album for heaven's sake.
• breakfast with my daughter.
• my parents' sixtieth wedding anniversary party.
• going to Phoenix to hang out with my son and daughter-in-law, and Will and Van.
• writing poems every day. poems for days. poems like mad.
• organizing things around here so that things are immaculate. (I know that's not real, but maybe closer to immaculate. the next county over from immaculate. from here, it's just a short, 30 minute drive to immaculate. I could call immaculate and it wouldn't be long distance. immaculate and I are in the same time zone. like that.)
• making video essays.
• visit to my friend in NoCal.
• long walks at night, when it's cool, with Bruiser and the historian.
• seeing grandkids galore!
• hopefully even more visits to further climes.
• dreaming time.
• and so forth.

I am turning my grades in tomorrow, so all this magic begins in mere hours. MERE HOURS is when the magic starts.

Areas of my expertise.

Today I was having a chat with my Scotland daughter, in which I made the claim that one of the things I was known for was taking my time getting up in the morning. (other things I am known for, according to me: red lipstick, my on-the-fly rhetorical touch. Also poetry prize winning, but that's really only for the period between August 2014 and April 2015.)

Today, I was also good at

• granola making
• being super productive in my super quiet house
• reading and writing comments for ALL of my English 2010 students on their final projects. That's right: ALLLLLLLLLL.
• retrieving packages from the porch
• answering Shaun T when he said, from the television, 'I wanna hear you say it!' ('I can do it!')
• listening to Lemonade like it is my job (mostly while I was working out at, and on my way home from, the gym).

Things that are not the area of my expertise:

• equanimity in the face of officious sounding emails
• tidiness, obviously
• being able to accept the inevitable as, you know, real.

But I am expert at

• choosing an outfit with extra insouciance and double-extra sparkle for a slightly swanky evening event ('cocktail attire'). (N.B.: I am truly sorry I do not have a picture of this outfit. Mostly I'm sorry for myself. And sorry for my Outfit Archives, which will have to accept words and memories [tulle skirt, bejeweled tee, tuxedo jacket, all grey; extra fancy new shoes] instead of the ocular proof.)
• eating a Pop Tart after the dog walk
• opinion mongering (I'm so good at this!)
• blue sky thinking (also expert at this!)

So, you know. If you need an expert in any of the above, you know who to call.

Dear first day of grading,

I am pleased to say that the progress was good today. This means that I

• set up the rubrics, and
• graded one third, more or less,

of the available stuff to grade. I am therefore, and thusly, on my way to being finished grading by tomorrow evening. A consummation devoutly to be wished, don't you agree, first day of grading?

Other things I accomplished:

• two workouts
• submitted my travel paperwork huzzah
• attended a meeting
• considered my place in the universe, and found myself wanting
• figured out what I'm wearing to a fancy event tomorrow night

So, you know, good day. Oh! also, I watched

• Purple Rain for the very first time in my life.
• !!!!!!!!!!!
• I KNOW.

One of my friends went to far as to say that this made me 'kind of a fraud.' At which I take umbrage, first day of grading. That was a long, long time ago. Who knows what was even happening? I had small children and responsibilities and there may have been other movies to see. Also, I finished my master's degree that summer! so, you know, I was writing a thesis. Fraudulent my eye. 

But I will say that when Prince plays that fantastic three-fer--'Purple Rain,' 'I Would Die 4 U,' and 'Baby I'm a Star'--to end the movie, it's clear--he is and was and forever will be a star. So it was high time, first day of grading, that I see it, and having seen it, it is and was and forever will be all I could ever have hoped for.

I'm not your lover, first day of grading, and I'm not your friend: actually, I am something that you'll never comprehend. So you better wrap your mind around that,

htms

Live to tell.

I've been saying for the last several weeks or maybe for the last several decades that I can't think about the thing that's happening in, like two weeks, because I can only think about the three things that are in my face (when I say this, I like to hold my own hand one inch in front of my face, with my fingers spread out like an immoveable wall) right now, and when those three things are out of my face, then the next three things can take their place. It's sort of shocking to me (a) how much I like retelling this little demonstration of my state of mind/life, complete with hand gesture, and (b) how entirely apt it is.

So the three things that are in my face right now:

(a) grading
(b) contracts for visiting writers next year, and all that that implies (and believe me: it implies a lot)
(c) there are actually several things vying for the (c) spot on my list of three things (hand in front of my own face) currently in my face right now, I can't quite decide which one is in-my-face-iest. Which may be a little problem, come to think of it.

Well, the good thing is that teaching is finished for the semester and the academic year. I do have a few students who don't quite seem to realize this, which is probably my own damn fault because I have let a few of them have a little bit of extra time, which one or two of them seem to think means I am still teaching the class. Which I am not. I am not teaching anymore, even if I'm letting people turn things in one, two, three days late. Still: teaching, as an activity that involves me actively instructing people, is over. OVER, students.

And the other good thing is: today I could actually feel myself unwind. I read the paper without the strong feeling that I needed to be done with it already so I could move on to tasks. No. Today my tasks included:

• talk to my daughter in Scotland
• go down to Orem with my daughter and grandkids to visit my folks
• buy excellent cheese at Trader Joe's and also ranunculus and stocks and sweet William, which are currently making my house smell beautiful
• plant a heliotrope
• take Bruiser for two walks with the historian
• watch the penultimate episode of The Good Wife, which, no matter how it has let me down, and in fairly significant ways, I am still finding riveting

So that's my Sunday. If you were keeping track, I wrote 26 poems for National Poetry Month (some of which I did not post, but I did write them). Perhaps I will write four more poems, belatedly, in much the same spirit as my students, who are still turning in late activities and assignments and heaven knows what all. But at least I will not email and ask you to teach me how to write them.

In conclusion: