A farewell to August.

Doesn't Lulu Barnes make an imposing shadow? That shadow says, "It's almost September, even though it feels like the middle of summer, and the AC is running, and it's still light when the kids go to bed."

It's a chatty shadow. One of those.

Golly, we're knee-deep into week two, and everything, for the most part, is okay.

The super awesome, independent Akron reading series THE BIG BIG MESS has its latest installment on Friday, featuring Matthew Guenette, Nate Pritts, Adam Fell, and Matt Hart. It's going to be so fantastic.

Don't wear your wool sweater, though, because that place gets a little hot.

In other news, did you know that I write book reviews sometimes? Here's my review of THE TREES THE TREES by Heather Christle, at Read This Awesome Book.

Dear reader, I am looking forward to the long weekend that they say is ahead of us.

I have a batch of student poems to comment on. I somehow, despite major childcare challenges, managed to write well over 40 pages of poems this summer. Life is just where it should be. Please stay that way, life. Thanks.

And just like that...

One minute I was contemplating witchcraft to get rid of ants, and the next I was in the classroom telling students about contemplating witchcraft to get rid of ants, and how that connects (maybe) to the craft of writing poetry.

Yes, this week was hectic. It took me a really long time to line all of those metaphorical cones (see above) up just right. But I did, and here we are.

At this time of year I am always extra thankful that I get to do what I do. I'm also kind of shocked that I get to do what I do, even though I've been here in Akron since 2005. I am very aware of the fact that my 1:2 load is going to be a thing of the past as of next year, when I am no longer program director, so I am trying to enjoy it. Less administration, or rather, NO administration, will be nice.

The Monkey and the Wrench is getting some rather awesome reviews in magazines, including ALA Choice:

As editors of the "Akron Series in Contemporary Poetics," Biddinger and Gallaher have compiled an exceptionally fine sampling of reflections on contemporary American poetry. The first selections are playful, pithy examinations of noteworthy trends; the last section is devoted to ongoing debate in the field on attempts to classify American poets and their work into distinct schools--a debate to some degree launched in Cole Swenson's American Hybrid." A Norton Anthology of New Poetry, ed. by Cole Swensen and David St. John (2009). Less experienced audiences, including lay readers, will find the essays refreshingly clear and the threads of the discussion easy to follow, and they will appreciate the wealth of illustrations and suggested further reading. At the same time, practicing poets and instructors in MFA programs will find the critique of such programs invaluable. Delightful in terms of style, broad and perceptive in subject and treatment, this book is a must-read for those interested in writing poetry. Though not exhaustive in coverage, it represents the current conversations of some of the most prominent writers and critics publishing today. Summing Up: Highly recommended. Upper-division undergraduates through faculty and professionals; general readers.

--C. E. O'Neill, New Mexico State University at Alamogordo

I am so excited to hear what people have to think of the book, especially because we're working on volume 2 in the series right now.

The biggest development of the week: I now have a 4th grader and a KINDERGARTENER. Ray's first day was today. He loved it. Then we went out for Thai food. He didn't want the mild-ish pad thai I ordered for him, and instead ate Eric's spicy vermicelli. I think he is ready for the real world.

First day crack-up.

School: it's back in session! I am only teaching one class this semester (I am on a 1:2 again this year, which will change next year, as I will no longer be directing the MFA program, which, coincidentally, has a nice new website). Anyway, I am teaching an intro to poetry writing workshop, which is one of my favorite classes to teach. It seems like an awesome bunch. Totally odd time of 12:15-1:30, but everyone was still awake and not gnawing on gigantic sandwiches or anything. It was great. Then I went back to my office and got knocked out of my chair by an earthquake.

I sometimes have problems dealing with my blood sugar and thus end up shaky/loopy/vertigo-esque, so I figured I'd had another one of those 120 calorie Lean Cuisines by mistake or something, but then the building was really swaying, and we stood in the doorways and felt queasy. I'm not sure why I am compelled to document this, but it was quite eerie and strange (not to mention the flurry on twitter afterwards, like everyone was getting quaked at the same time). Afterwards I went out and took a bunch of pictures and I'm super happy with them. So thus rests the first day of school 2011. An auspicious start, for sure.

Wherein the summer ends, and our heroine ponders cheering.

Ultimately, I shall not cheer for the end of this summer, because even though it was a difficult summer (ants! flooding! 70+ year old house breaking every five minutes! no money!) it was still pretty amazing. I'd never spent so much time in my house before, or with my kids, and I loved both of those things. Most days I'd sleep until almost-8 (thank you, Raymond, for finally learning how to sleep) and spend a lot of time chilling, catching up on emails, scrutinizing then purchasing fruit, writing lists, getting sun, eating whatever Eric would bbq for us (hello, zucchini and squash...since when did I become smitten with you).

It was a summer with a leisurely pace, and I learned so much. I read a ton of books FOR FUN. I have over 30 pages of new poems, and the month isn't over yet. I got some poems picked up by magazines. I learned how to bargain shop (and now it totally pains me to see inflated prices--it seems like all I ever buy is food, but I can list strawberry prices for at least five different markets in Akron).

Things I did not do this summer: clean and organize closets, make significant progress on basement organization, lose a ton of weight, go to the shore multiple times, invent a secret cat language, make some art. But oh well. There's always next summer.

The Week of the No Turning Back

There once was a week of no turning back. On the Sunday night before this week, everything seemed normal, except--what the hell?--it was a lot colder outside. And there were navy blue pants everywhere, some for a kid girl, and some for a small boy. (Note: there were no new clothes for other inhabitants of the household, though some wore exclusively fur, and others had no $ for new clothes, having purchased all those navy pants).

Anyway, so this is a limited edition post, because I won't be able to use the "Summer 2011" tag for much longer. Fall is almost here, and there's absolutely nothing we can do about it except get excited about football, sweaters, and stuffed peppers.

Tomorrow I will write my syllabus, which will be dramatically different from past years. I'm revamping. I'm using American Busboy by Matthew Guenette and I Was the Jukebox by Sandra Beasley. Okay, maybe it won't be DRAMATICALLY different, but it will be different. Due to the lack of childcare, I will have only tomorrow to get the thing done.

Tomatoes are in season. I've gotten some poems accepted by magazines. It's 8/14 and I have written 14 poems in month 8. And that is the Sunday night report from Akron, OH.

The week of the ominous and the anxious and perhaps a little silver-lining-ness.

What's creepier than a blimp sneaking up on you? Well, lots of things. But the blimp is such a happy Akron feature for me that I'll forgive the strangeness of it. The first time I saw the blimp (pretty much overhead, on Market Street) I was about ready to roll under a parked car and start praying. Now it's one of my favorite things to see here.

And how is that connected to today's post? Well, because hopefully the anxiety of this week and next week will result in happy progress and useful moving-forward and such. Maybe that's a friendly blimp hanging overhead, not the concrete representation of impending doom.

I thought that right about now I'd be super sad about Ray going to kindergarten. Instead, I'm super freaked out at how much it costs to buy uniforms and school supplies for two kids. I never thought I'd be the mom bringing shitty tissues from Aldi instead of Puffs Plus with cool little school designs, but apparently that's who I've become. And apologies in advance for the generic classroom wipes. I'm sure they'll sanitize just like the fancier kind.

Anyway, this week I caught up, I freaked out, and I wrote poems. I'm happy with what I have been doing, though nothing's finished, and I am forever lamenting the fact that I only get like 20 minutes max to write anything. I thought my childcare woes would soon diminish, but Ray is home for an extra week, causing a radical clash between my return to work and my ability to be at work without a five-year-old. So this is where the "anxious" comes in.

I have absolutely no idea what I am doing with the new poems, but they are a bit more serious than before, and I'm trying to be a little less rhetorical. Huh. We'll see how that works out.

A thrilling night of poetry awaits tomorrow night, as Jason Bredle and Noah Falck visit Akron for The Big Big Mess Reading Series. What's even better is that I have absolutely nothing to do with curating or implementing this series, so I just get to show up and listen and relax.

Perfect weather in Akron today (low 70s, fluffy clouds on blue sky, some creepy clouds mixed in). There was a crazy orange storm-sunset on Tuesday night, but my photos didn't do it justice.

Currently reading Once Upon a River by Bonnie Jo Campbell. I hope I can keep reading so much once the academic year is back.

As always, there's a skunk outside my bedroom window this late evening. I play a trick with my brain where I tell myself it's the scent of coffee instead. Success: mild to moderate.

Friday: almost here, and I am very ready.

Announcement: The Saint Monica Library Project

Dear Readers, thank you so much for your Saint Monica Library Project nominations. I am very excited to announce that the following libraries will receive a copy of Saint Monica, and a lifetime subscription to Barn Owl Review.

Flint Public Library (Michigan)
Waterloo Public Library (Iowa)
Wayne County Public Library (Wooster, Ohio)
Martin Luther King Memorial Library (Washington, DC)

I am thrilled to send these libraries their donations. Thank you to everyone who nominated.

In semi-related news, I'm on Verse Daily today, with "Saint Monica Wishes on the Wrong Star." Thanks, Verse Daily!

Okay, now back to our previously-scheduled Mondayness.

The week that was the foil of the other weeks.

This week was the good-natured buddy of all the other weeks, the one who doesn't smash a wall full of pickle jars at the grocery store, or swear at old ladies for driving too slowly. If the other weeks were Goofus, this week was Gallant, for the most part. If the other weeks were cherries overripe enough to constitute an icky, slick mess, this week was a nice, firm, tart cherry at the top of the bag, maybe even with two stems (good luck).

In other words, we kinda got our shit together. We got things done. I have in my possession several obsolete to-do lists which I should probably toss out, because those things are finished. I am 2/3rds of the way done with back to school shopping. Aside: back to school shopping, for kids' uniforms and school supplies, really sucks when you don't have much money. Anyway, I am getting things done, and the universe hasn't been getting in my way, except for right now, as I am craving to eat a cookie, but I absolutely will not. It is not on the list.

For the next five minutes, it's still 8/4/11. I have written five poems since the beginning of the month. Things are going to be okay (I hope).

Spontaneous undertow of _______________.

It's really not a summer until you've waded in ankle-deep or higher water. That's why I don't put on any sort of real shoes between mid-May and mid-September. Because you never know when the real summer experience will present itself.

In case you haven't heard, it's August. I'm writing again, hopefully a poem a day. I have also been feeling more "motivated" overall, like making phone calls and stuff. I hate making phone calls (to strangers) unless I am giving them good news. I wish I could do that every day!

Sorry, right now I'm being totally distracted listening to This Mortal Coil via Spotify. It's like all my disappeared cds are back on my shelf. I do not recommend this if you dislike flashbacks to 1991 (or 1984, if you were cool/born).

When I was a kid I thought it was undertoe. I swam in Lake Michigan a lot. Nobody corrected me. It was just a much simpler time.