Holiday Angst

I am a very sociable person. I like being with people, getting to know them, chatting, and eating with them. However, my family isn't like me in that way.
My son and my husband would rather stay home watching games on television, talking about sports. My husband would rather be at the range, hitting balls, or in the garage, poking balls into holes on the pool table. (But isn't this what groups of men generally end up doing together, even when large families gather?)
Though on most days I go to yoga class or on hikes, holidays are meant to be spent with family, eating and talking. But my family just views them as a chore, while I, without siblings or close-by relations, long to cook with a group of chatting and laughing friends or family, and to eat what we cooked together, talking about old times and times to come.
So I end up forcing my family to eat what I have grudgingly cooked. No one has a good time. All holidays at my house seem to end up like this, especially Thanksgiving.
I guess I could insist we go out to eat. That might be a compromise. We've done it before. Too bad, because leftovers on Thanksgiving are a GOOD thing, even my family acknowledges that. Cold stuffing for breakfast is a delight not to be missed, as I'm sure some of you would agree.
Relationships are tough. Holidays are tougher. And this is just the start of the holiday season.

Rain Rain

It doesn't rain much for most of the year in these parts. However, winter can be a rainy time, and this winter is turning out to be particularly so.
One thing about the rain here is that it can cause a lot of havoc because the streets don't drain well, and cars tend to slip around on them when it rains. Sometimes there are also flash floods.
I was once stuck in such a flood when making my way across the street to the market across the street from our apartment (several places ago). Then I heard it: the sound of a rushing flood of water, carrying cars, trees, dead animals, and a couple of people, swimming for their lives. I can't swim, and I was stuck in the middle of the street yelling for help. Finally, a big SUV going by me opened the door and let me in. Lucky for me, it was a decent person, who took me home. But there were people on the other side of the street who wanted me to jump in, even though I probably would have been swept away and drowned. Encouraging, isn't it?

Think First, Act Later

In real life, as opposed to virtual life, I am generally pretty cautious, to the point where many people have ranked me out for it, saying, "You think too much!" I guess this is an expected sort of failing for a person like me, who lives so much in her head.
But when I sit at the computer, I become a totally different kind of person, recklessly punching buttons left and right. That is how my computers have become so messed up over the past years. In fact, I recently had to have the whole operating system replaced and all the files straightened out and cleaned of junk.
It's kind of like my closets, come to think of it, or the fact that I can't seem to dump random pieces of mail that I might need for something someday.
Now I'm trying to figure out how to change the size of the illustrations in my yoga manuscript. Nina has done most of them now, but Karen, the publisher, doesn't have a number of them. However, when I pasted them into the manuscript, several of them became enormous, and I can't seem to figure out how to resize them, and can't find relevant instructions online for Word 2007. 2007 is new to me; I guess I'll get used to it. And yes, I know, that's already antiquated. I'm a few years behind the curve.

New Possibility

For perhaps a year, Richard has been encouraging me to apply for a fellowship at the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center. Richard went twice (as many times as it is possible to apply), in 1976, when we first got married, and in 1990, when Jeremy was not quite one year old.
Artists and writers in this program must live in a converted chicken coop in Provincetown, MA, on the beautiful tip of Cape Cod for 7 months (fall, winter, and spring). They get a small stipend and free rent, and the freedom to work on whatever artistic endeavors they wish.
The major criterion of the program is the quality of the work, and the idea that this should be an "emerging" artist/writer. Richard argues that despite my age, I really fit that criterion since I am only now really beginning to publish and do serious work on my writing career, having spent the rest of my life teaching and taking care of other people (the fate of most women).
I can certainly write very happily right where I am, in my wonderful new house on the cusp of the Southern California hills,as well as going to yoga class and synagogue, but, once unemployment dries up, I would not be able to collect a stipend for doing this. So he imagines that we would leave the house to Jeremy and a couple of trustworthy friends of his we would lease it to, with Jeremy here to keep an eye on things, and go live in the wintry dunes for nearly a year.
I don't know about this. I know Richard would heartily enjoy this. And it might be a big boost for my writing since I could do readings in Boston and probably New York and would enjoy going to many readings and art openings, etc. But on the other hand,
would it necessarily do anything for me that staying right here and continuing to write and possibly applying for an NEA grant of another type wouldn't? And doesn't Jeremy still need our help, particularly since he is going to transfer to a 4 year school next year? I have my doubts about that.

Jet Lagged, and I didn't even go anywhere!

I'm still getting used to the time, as I'm sure you are too. I woke up this morning at about 1, and had a terrible time getting back to sleep. After about 3:30, I gave up, though I laid there until 5 before I got up.
I am supposed to go to choir practice, but I'm way too tired now!
I guess that besides the time change, I was thinking about my interview. I had been told the entire staff would be there to fire questions at me, which seemed a bit much for an adjunct position, but it didn't turn out that way.
The dean was a warm person, easy to talk to, and she enjoyed my presentation. The thumb drive I downloaded the poems I was going to talk about didn't work (it was empty, though at home it had said it wasn't), but luckily, I brought hard copies, since I didn't know whether I'd have access to a computer.I think it worked out well.

Facebook Wonders

By the time one reaches my age, she has met lots of people and forgotten or half forgotten most. On Facebook, I have been running into some of these people.
A friend of mine from Philly sent a pic of high school reunion. I was so miserable in high school I never ever wanted to go back, and haven't. But the picture she sent was pretty cool. One of the people was a good friend from early elementary school I had lost track of. One was a neighbor from across the street who, along with her sister, was a sort of enemy for much of my youth, but all that is behind us. One was a poet I met in P-town, but couldn't remember whether it was the first time we were there or the second.
I'm in touch with all of them now!

Interview on Verses In Motion

This afternoon I had my 15 minutes of quasi-fame being interviewed on Blog Radio's Verses In Motion show, where the gracious Laura Mercutio gave me the opportunity to monopolize a few minutes of precious airtime talking about yoga, reading poems, and inviting listeners to this blog.
Once I start to talk, it is hard to stop. Having so many years of free airtime in the classroom, I can wax quite prolix, but I hope that my segment was interesting and most of all, that people appreciated the two poems from Balance that I read.
I have been doing a lot of writing lately, and now have two new poems to shop around. As soon as one gets published, I will put the link here. I guess I better get cracking! I miss putting up fresh, unpublished work, but many journals will not republish them, once they have lost their print virginity on a blog. So many little rules one has to learn in this poetry biz!