Confession Tuesday needs its own holiday. Be sure to drop a note to me or Carolee and fess up!
First of all, I should have Happy Mother’s Day to my mom! During the past year, she has been reading my blog. And while I did speak with her yesterday, I’m officially saying hello via the blog!
Mother’s day was sunny and brisk in New England—perfect weather to take the family to Fenway Park and walk around the field (see photos below). The Fenway trip was quite the contrast from how I usually like to spend Mother’s Day—alone! And if the park hadn’t been open, the bulk of the day would have been spent (sans kids) shopping and writing. But I’m learning that these occasions are more important for my kids than for me.
Told Tim I didn’t want a present this year, just new Red Sox shirts for the kids. But what he gave me was the best gift ever. He gave me a card and wrote that he would take me out to dinner wherever I wanted to go, including dancing!
Dancing is one of my favorite things but we never go. You know what I mean ladies—if it wasn’t for the occasional wedding we’d never step out on the dance floor. So I have my feelers out for a place to go dancing in Boston that’s not a scary, 20-something meat market. An 80s dance night will do.
I’m enjoying not writing poems, but I’m getting the urge again. In the meantime, I’m
revising my April pieces. I’m quite pleased with my work but I can already see pieces I will probably cut for one reason or another. Hope to send out to five publications later this week.
Lately, I’ve been asked to participate in a lot of poetry-related activities, such as hosting the Super Hoot. I’ve also been asked to read at a few venues around greater Boston. Very cool.
I was reading Steve Fellner’s post for the NY Times on his first book collection and found myself hit with the cold water of reality:
“A few weeks ago, when I received my first royalty check of $27.08, I received the news: 138 copies. My first book of poems, Blind Date with Cavafy, sold a total of 138 copies.”What a sad but all-too-true reality for poets. My deepest fear, and I know this will happen, is that one day I’ll find my book in some bookstore in the $0.99 clearance bin. Now that’s a true confession.