Spring

Paris in August? Miami in November? Hmm. . . maybe. But for now, it's looking like Pittsburgh in May. Aw, yeah.

Hey, invite me to give a reading in your city. Come on, I don't eat much! The fam seems to be very supportive of my getting back in the swing of things and are rather generous with Gideon-watch offers. That or they want as much time as possible to reverse all the damage I've been doing. Either way, I should probably take advantage of this before Gid starts talking, makes enemies, gets cut out of the will, etc.

It's spring and my heart turns to getting the hell out of my house every and any opportunity I get. I'm no Emily Dickinson. This was a fortunate week for me. Chris worked from home on Weds and my mother-in-law came over for two hours Thursday afternoon. Fresh air! Oh boy. Once upon a time my daily schedule was a 3 mile walk outside followed by an additional 2 miles on the treadmill or yoga. I will be able to resume that sometime this summer, depending on when Gid is big enough to be in the jogging stroller, but for now, he's not ready to join me on the mean trails of Reston and they sure are mean. Yesterday I caught some kid getting high in one of the underpasses. I yelled, "You're stunting your growth! Frying your brain! You'll never get into a good college! Your balls will shrink to marbles! Your colon will explode! Blood will squirt from ass! Girls will smoke your stash but never put out!"

Yep, that's what I said.

Right now I'm mostly just on the treadmill. Praise my iPod. I have my first pilates session in two weeks and yoga resumes in three. I'm going to be a sore and miserable person for some time after that.

But about getting out of the house -- Saturday night my mother-in-law popped in for a couple of hours and Chris and I went out to dinner at a crowded Mexican restaurant. We were seated next to two women with infants and one woman was breasfeeding at the table. Suddenly I got it. I never was one of those people who got outraged at mothers breastfeeding in public, but I always wondered why they would bother. Why not just stay home until the baby is older? Now I understand. For those of you who get all pissy about the idea of breastfeeding in public, turn your fucking head if it offends you. Or better yet, stick a fork in your eye.

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Mailed out a submission last night. Got home from the post office, looked at the Word document that was still open and noticed a typo in the last line of the last poem of the manuscript. Sigh.

Back to canvassing blogs.