The poet has landed. I’m waiting in the airport for another poet to land. Meanwhile I thought I’d check in.
Items that made the cut into the suitcase:
- fleece bathrobe
- two pairs of pj’s
- sweats (for evening wear)
- skinny jeans, bootcut jeans, boyfriend jeans
- cozy socks
- flameless candle
- 1 pound of tea
- 2 boxes of Girl Scout Cookies
- many books
- the best I had of poet attire (meh)
- the small pharmacy that keeps this gal patched together
Items that did not make the cut into the suitcase:
(this space left intentionally blank)
So far the only snafu is that TSA (a) cut the lock off my suitcase to inspect it, and (b)during their inspection, managed to leave a ziploc bag open. Thank you, TSA, for the hair gel all over the inside of my suitcase. I don’t know where I’ll be when during AWP, but if you smell hair gel I’m probably nearby. Forgive me.
I don’t have an AWP bucket list — I’m just going to assume my path will cross with those it’s meant to cross with. I’m just going to try not to wear myself out, while learning as much as I can and enjoying the company of poet-friends.
After AWP, I’m proceeding to an undisclosed location (no, Dick Cheney will not be there). Well, I will tell you this: I’m going to an ISLAND to WRITE POEMS for ONE WEEK. BY MYSELF.
An ISLAND. BY MYSELF. Reader, can you believe it? I can’t, but apparently that is the plan.
I haven’t made any rules or promises to myself about blogging, Facebook, etc., during the next ten days or so. I might be around or I might not. Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing I wish you well. Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, take good care of you.