Evening plans.

James Tate is reading tonight(!), but before attending this event, E. and I are going to have a picnic on the lawn at UMass. (Which lawn, we're not yet sure. I'm not even familiar with all the knolls & grassy patches on campus and I think, in fact, that there are even picnic tables by Herter. So there's a good chance that we won't be sitting on the grass at all.) Picked up salami, cheese (sharp cheddar and Laughing Cow, for me), watermelon, and a mini mini chocolate cake. Some beers, which will have to languish in the fridge 'til later.

This weekend may = a strange calm before the storm. I'm done with my own classes, and my last day of teaching is Tuesday. Even then, I'll just be having a party for my students, so there's no need to lesson plan...Yikes! What to do with this sudden, brief, & lovely stretch of free time? Any suggestions for things to read, recipes to try, crafty-type projects?

Indeed: I may work on fixing an old necklace, making a new one, updating the scrapbook (which, like those beers, has languished: but for months). The bead store here relocated to a bigger/more out-of-the-way location, and I have yet to check it out.

Also, and totally unrelatedly, the aloe sprouts I transplanted last weekend don't seem to be doing well. (I successfully resisted the urge to use a sad-face emoticon. Congrats, right?) I thought their roots were long enough, but maybe not?

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.