much ado about nothing...

I'm just gonna start off by saying...I'm kinda cranky today. On edge. Impatient. I think it has something to do with being a woman...if ya know what I mean...*wink*. TMI? Sorry...but it's true! I pretty much chased Chris out of the house this morning with my lovely attitude...poor guy. And even after he planted our winter veggies yesterday and everything.

Our little winter garden looks so cute...Chris pulled the last of the tomatoes, raked and cleaned things up, then planted the chard, collards and broccoli....finally. Not finally for him...just in general because I kept forgetting about the poor little seedlings. They were sitting patiently in their plastic containers for weeks. But...now...they're cozy in the ground. Thank you honey! Now...let's hope they grow! We've never planted winter vegetables before...so this is a bit of an experiment. I'll keep you posted.

(And really...I think I'm the only one in this house that even likes these vegetables...except the broccoli...Seth eats lots of it when I make it...but the other stuff, not so much. Maybe they'll like it if it's fresh from our own garden...sometimes that makes all the difference.)

I borrowed a stack of Mary Oliver books from the library yesterday (placed them on hold, online, one of my favorite conveniences ever.)...she's the author I chose to analyze for my Creative Writing Final Portfolio...which weirdly enough, I'm excited to work on. We were given our choice of what to submit in our portfolio...two short stories, 9-12 poems or a combination of the two. I chose the combo which will translate into one short story and 4-6 poems. Although the more I write poems the more I am leaving the option open to submit all poetry. We'll see where I'm at with it all in a week or so.

Along with our own writing we have to analyze an author of our choice (Oliver) as well as a short story we had to read as a class selected by the instructor. I did not like the story at all...not even a little bit. Nor did I like the other short stories by the same author from the same book. Her writing makes me uncomfortable...and maybe that's her intention. I don't know. Either way...it's part of the final and therefore I will do it.

Funny to think we've only got a little over a month left of class...it was going along so slowly and now suddenly we're down to the wire. (I should be writing in my notebook and not here!) At this point I've got a short story written...but it needs tweaking using some of the feedback I got from the class. And I've got 5 poems written...two of which need a bit of tweaking, again based on feedback.

Hmmm...I probably should have titled this post, "School on the brain". If you've made it this far...thank you for listening to my ramblings.

And as a reward for reading on and on to my incessant droning...something beautiful from Mary Oliver...

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.