My Return
I'm back. I thought coming back and readjusting to normalcy would be tough, but I realize now that I sorta missed the routine. So while Florida was a blast, I definitely missed everyone and am very glad to be back.
As for today, I managed to get myself up and out the door for practice on time, only to discover that I was rowing in a double. As in sculling. And in bow. And with Andy. I could explore how the situation could have had more potential for awkwardness but the exercise might prove painful. As it turned out, though, it was really fun. I didn't crash into anything stationary (sorry, guys sr. four), and I kind of succeeded in setting the boat for at least part of practice and I managed to follow Andy (most of the time, sorry about those starts!). After practiced I came home and vegged, which will not be the situation tomorrow, because I am exceedingly motivated and should very much enjoy rowing in bonnie London in 2012, mates. My capacity for crafting run-on sentences is endless (see above), but my capacity for writing decent poetry is rather a bit more limited. Be that as it may, I leave you with the latest of my poetry, an idea that's been bouncing around since last fall or winter and finally decided to manifest itself in semi-intelligible form.
PS: A supreme court rant (regarding Justice O'Connor) will follow sometime soon.
For now:
Intentions
The child observed carefully
as her mother sprayed each kitchen surface
with dilute chemicals.
The graceful lady smiled
a satisfied smile
as she rubbed out
the yellow and brown stains.
Then, gardening.
The little one had only t
three years and so many good intentions.
She didn't understand her mother's tears, or why
when she attempted
to clean the black-eyed susans into daisies
they withered.
As for today, I managed to get myself up and out the door for practice on time, only to discover that I was rowing in a double. As in sculling. And in bow. And with Andy. I could explore how the situation could have had more potential for awkwardness but the exercise might prove painful. As it turned out, though, it was really fun. I didn't crash into anything stationary (sorry, guys sr. four), and I kind of succeeded in setting the boat for at least part of practice and I managed to follow Andy (most of the time, sorry about those starts!). After practiced I came home and vegged, which will not be the situation tomorrow, because I am exceedingly motivated and should very much enjoy rowing in bonnie London in 2012, mates. My capacity for crafting run-on sentences is endless (see above), but my capacity for writing decent poetry is rather a bit more limited. Be that as it may, I leave you with the latest of my poetry, an idea that's been bouncing around since last fall or winter and finally decided to manifest itself in semi-intelligible form.
PS: A supreme court rant (regarding Justice O'Connor) will follow sometime soon.
For now:
Intentions
The child observed carefully
as her mother sprayed each kitchen surface
with dilute chemicals.
The graceful lady smiled
a satisfied smile
as she rubbed out
the yellow and brown stains.
Then, gardening.
The little one had only t
three years and so many good intentions.
She didn't understand her mother's tears, or why
when she attempted
to clean the black-eyed susans into daisies
they withered.