It is blazingly, profoundly hot in Bartlett right now. (Bartlett, for those not at UMass, is the English building: the place I spend the most on-campus time.) For whatever reason, the heat has not been shut off - I think this reason has to do with the fact that the heating facility is not on campus, hence difficult to contact - and so, though the outside temperature is expected to reach 79 today, the heaters still pump out hot air.

Gross.

An excellent weekend, mostly spent bumming around town (literally just bumming: walking aimlessly, looking in shop windows, dawdling) and doing spring-like things. A few games of basketball, an ice cream cone, some watermelon, some time spent tanning. It's weird: I don't have much experience tanning, and I don't yet have much patience for it. This is not to say that I dislike the practice - I, of anyone, could certainly use more sun. It's just that I get restless when I sit/lay outside too long without doing anything. A few times I tried reading for class, but that got old quick when the sun's glare made the pages ultra-white and abrasive to the eyes. Perhaps my mild discomfort tanning will be assuaged once the school year is over and I don't have to worry about things I should be doing?

Sunday night, there was a mouse in Eric's house(!) (I'm not sure why I put that exclamation point: just seeing the mouse freaked me the hell out.) We were watching "The Deer Hunter" (really good) and out of the corner of our eyes, we noticed a dark furry form scooting along the far wall. I screamed; Eric looked worried. We set out immediately to get a mousetrap. But once we got to the store, the traditional mousetraps, their boxes emblazoned with the claim "KILLS!" in several languages, seemed so barbaric. So we got a few "mouse cubes" - cruelty-free traps that allow one to release the caught mouse into its natural habitat. We set the trap near the stove (where the mouse had evidently been seen before, though not by us) and went to bed. The next morning, there was the mouse. It was tiny! And scared-looking. The mouse cube was steamed with its breath. We took it out to the yard behind E's building and set it free. For a moment, it curled into a ball, but a few taps on the cube sent it hopping toward the railroad tracks (and hopefully toward a good life in someone else's house).

Birdseed was her middle name.

The Academy of American Poets' Poem of the Day yesterday was from James Tate:

Father's Day

My daughter has lived overseas for a number
of years now. She married into royalty, and they
won't let her communicate with any of her family or
friends. She lives on birdseed and a few sips
of water. She dreams of me constantly. Her husband,
the Prince, whips her when he catches her dreaming.
Fierce guard dogs won't let her out of their sight.
I hired a detective, but he was killed trying to
rescue her. I have written hundreds of letters
to the State Department. They have written back
saying that they are aware of the situation. I
never saw her dance. I was always at some
convention. I never saw her sing. I was always
working late. I called her My Princess, to make
up for my shortcomings, and she never forgave me.
Birdseed was her middle name.

***

In other news, today is the most gorgeous day of spring: 70 and sunny. I'm wearing flip flops and a short-sleeved blouse: yeah! A full third of my students were absent today, but I couldn't even get annoyed because it's so freaking nice out. Who can blame them?

Last night, in front of the breezy window, E. and I read some James Wright and talked about horses. Before that, sitting in the same breezy room, I worked on a poem with no title. I slept deeply and for half an hour in the afternoon, because I'd woken up so early. I woke up at 6 o'clock in the morning.

WAFFLES.

Yes, waffles: pure deliciousness. I have not eaten a waffle lately but was somehow acutely reminded of how good they are. Since this reminder, I've been finding pictures of the best looking waffles and wishing I had a waffle-iron.

Waffles.

Waffles.

That word sounds strange to me now.

***
A good weekend, if not the most productive. Friday was low-key [since Thursday was a late night out with S. and D.]: filled out forms for my summer job, had lunch at the ABC with Eric, watched a movie. Yesterday, too, was lounge-y, but more quest-filled - when I woke up, I really, really wanted coffee and a pastry, but not just these things: I wanted these things in a quaint cafe setting. So I laced up my shoes and brought Eric with, and we searched Northampton for a good cafe. Woodstar seemed the obvious choice, and it was a choice obvious to everyone else: it was packed. Bakery Normand seemed like it might have good pastries (I've only ever tried the bread), but nowhere to sit. We ended up at the cafe side of Sylvester's, which had great coffee and pretty good baked goods but a less-than-optimal dining room setup. Sigh.

Though I've lived here two years, this town's lack of bakeries continues to surprise and annoy me. Damn! If Galesburg could have Swedough's and Uncle Billy's, why can't Northampton - which is larger and also surrounded by more colleges - have anything similar? My personal goal, after completing the program, may be to open a bakery here. Though I'd first have to learn baking skillz and acquire mad startup cash. A project.

After brunch, we bummed around town for a bit, played a little basketball at the court at Bridge St. School, went to the gym, went shopping for clothes to wear to Ruth and Adam's wedding (I found a dress!). And then, an indoor picnic dinner: hot-dogs, corn on the cob, chips, and Amstel Light. The night air blew in through the screen door and the sounds of outside people were far away. It was a perfect meal.