Mood: Penitent and Contrite, or Bewitched, Bothered and Bedraggled
Location: The Kitchen Table (aka the Third Office)
Earworm: "Subpoenaed...in Texas...sequestered...in Memphis" (The Hold Steady)
Laps at the Astoria Park track: Four, in the rain.
I know, I know. I was supposed to post yesterday. Part of the responsibility of being a guest blogger is that you actually, um, blog. I said earlier that I am not Catholic, but I hope I can get still get a little forgiveness by throwing some Latin around.
Let's just say that the life-y-ness of life has gotten to me. And it's still getting to me today, but I wanted to drop a line and promise that yes, I will be posting my requisite magic seven, albeit not in daily sequence.
When you spend the better part of your afternoon dealing with snafus on the part of the NYC Office of Pupil Transportation, it can cut down on your time and energy for blogging. Last fall, while I was on sabbatical, I posted extensively on Saint Nobody about our struggles with busing for Adorable #2, who is in a special education program at a school far from our neighborhood. I won't go into detail, but let's just say that there was a kerfluffle, requiring a flurry of phone calls, and it's now (somewhat) resolved.
And this bedraggled mother/writer/educator is actually heading out for a social event (shameless plug here): a party to celebrate the release of Greg Sanders' haunting, edgy short story collection, Motel Girl, published by none other than our friends at Red Hen Press. Greg's crafty contemporary tales really earn the oft-tossed-about (and perilously cliche) designation "Kafkaesque." They're smart, creepy, sexy, scarily true and pleasingly fantastic, will make you laugh, squirm, gasp in turn.
Stay tuned. Bear with me. Tomorrow I will make it up to you, I promise.
And now a moment of silence for Reginald Shepherd. Much, much too young.
Comments