Confession Tuesday

It’s time to do the do, folks. Time to fess up! Tell us a little something about yourself. And while you’re at it, stop by The Confessional to see who else is sharing this week.

Dodge Dodge Dodge Dodge Dodge! OMG I am quite dizzy with anticipation. I don’t know what I’m looking forward to most, the stellar lineup of poets and artists, or time AWAY from my family. I love them dearly, but for self-preservation, I desperately need some ME time. They know I’ll be back a much happier person.

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This past weekend, Tim had a boys weekend away! He and his college friends got together for their annual Olympic-wannabe-tribute-to-maleness known as the Fat Owl Open. When the boys were in their 20s, they participated in 10-12 sports that included basketball, tennis, track and field, etc. Now that they’ll all pushing 40, the sports have morphed into darts, pool, cards, beer, and other less strenuous activities. And while my husband prevailed and took the fuggly trophy …

(Fat Owl trophy)


He reinjured his knee, the one that underwent an ACL replacement earlier this year. Needless to say, it’s damaged and needs repair again. *sigh*

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Looking back over my poetry goals for September, I thought I’d update to see how far I’ve gotten:

1. Find a poem to read at the October inauguration of Babson's new president. Done.
Chose Mary Oliver’s “Sunrise.”

2. Write a poem a week. Time to get back into a routine. I seem to do better with pressure so maybe I should get back to writing a poem a day. But for now, I just need to put pen to paper and write.

Sadly, I’ve written one poem, but have worked on another. It’s a tough one, a 9/11 poem. Hope to post one more poem by month’s end. Also, I’m participating in a poem-a-day project in October, culminating with readings at two or three great venues in Boston in November.

3. Start working on poetry project for manuscript #2. See last entry.

4. Submit! Submit! Submit! I don't have many poems in circulation. Since my book comes out next year, it would be nice to have some poems in print before the book's release. So I'm looking to submit to four journals/poetry projects this month. Hey, I still have a week to submit. I need to get organized and get cracking on this.

5. Add bio to blog. I think I need to put it somewhere on the site, somewhere that I
can update. See previous post.

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Lastly, I had the most amazing experience at my son’s swim class on Saturday. Those who know me know that I can’t swim. Well, I guess I can swim, but don’t ask me to save your life if you fall off a boat or something!

Since Tim was having his boys' weekend, I took both kids to swim class. My son is a fish and loves the water. But my daughter is more like her mama: squeamish, tentative, and doesn’t like to get her hair or ears wet. (I’m not even addressing the stereotypes about blacks and swimming, so don’t go there!) As it became apparent that I have no real aquatic skills, the instructor, who was a kind and generous, matronly woman, gave me a swim lesson.

Actually, this lesson in floating was more of a life lesson. She asked me to unlearn everything I knew about water. She said these magical things such as relax, breathe, let your body be light, let your guard down, drop the tension, focus on yourself, it's OK to sink. C’mon, it's OK to sink?

When I did, I found that I was buoyant for a few seconds; however, when I thought about what I was doing, my head went under. Even so, the instructor said that it’s OK to give in, let my feet touch the bottom of the pool. I just have to trust that the water will sustain me, and trust that I won’t drown.

The experience blanketed all parts of me as mother, poet, wife, being in the world—just too many ways to extrapolate this information. Kids have no fear but adults bottle it up, and I'm certainly no exception. After, I thought, "Is swimming really that simple?"

Because of Dodge, I won’t be able to take the kids to the next class. But I’ll be back the week after. Maybe I’ll finally learn how to swim.