Filling the Well

Saturday was a day to call out the Muse. Shake out the ordinary. Remember that there is a whole world of poetry and literature and beauty out there. I forget that sometimes, wrapped up in my own little neighborhood of busywork and sloth.

We don't have much "kulcha" here in the hinterlands of the North Bay, but there is an annual Sonoma County Book Fair. So I went. I attended a poetry reading featuring the new Sonoma County Poet Laureate, Geri DiGiorno, who founded the Petaluma Poetry Walk (which I will be partaking of with Rebecca and possibly Julia, childcare willing); Al Young, California's Poet Laureate; and Kay Ryan, a poet Rebecca introduced me to, funny and charming. It was an incredibly lovely day, Saturday was. A number of poetry enthusiasts crowded into the poetry tent. Sadly, I was just about the youngest one there, and it was a little difficult to hear--guess the organizers didn't want to blast poetry onto the main drag. Or maybe I'm not as young as I'd like to think, and my hearing is going.

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Fountain at the Luther Burbank home
Originally uploaded by suzipaw.

I'm finally getting the hang of the digital photography phenomenon: take pictures--lots of pictures. So after the reading, I perused the tables then walked down to the Luther Burbank Home, he of the Russet Burbank potato and champion of the artichoke, among many other culinary creations. There's a lovely fountain there that I wanted to share with you.

More Burbank Home photos on my Flickr page.

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I walked back to the Book Fair (see photo above) to hear a panel on literary blogs. I was prepared to be smug and disdainful (really, jealous) of the panelists. But lo and behold, I learned something, and all four were so sincere and seemed so kind. They were:

Colin Berry (kind of a "Green Acres" themed blog, sans Eva Gabor)
Michelle Richmond (lots of links to lit blogs here)
Martha O'Connor, author of Bitch Posse
Jordan Rosenfeld (she has a local radio show here, too)

...and I think any one of them would fit well into our writers group. Which is saying a great deal.

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Just to cap the day, I met with three dear friends for drinks, discussions of a personal and political nature, and dessert. Had I seen M for more than five minutes that Saturday, I think it would have qualified as a Perfect Day.

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So, the fourth anniversary of September 11 has passed. I did have a few crying moments yesterday morning, and I wasn't even in NYC at the time. If you have the stomach for a first-hand account, here's one by Meg Cabot.

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Ah, Stinky Youth: As I was trying to purchase a bottle of wine the other night via the Albertson's self-serve check-out, I had to track down an employee to approve the sale. As we walked back to the check stand, the little upstart asked for my ID, and I just laughed. After a pause, he laughed too and said, "Just kidding!" Hahahah. Hah. Kids these days.

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Well, one wonderful thing happened during my 12-hour work day on Friday (yeah, I can hear the hinges creaking on those tiny violin cases, but it was the second one in a row): I purchased my airline tickets for our conference in Amsterdam in October! I tacked on a few extra days because I want to get down to Florence. I've never been to Italy, have no Italian whatsoever, but it just sounds so lovely. A perfect place to be utterly on my own, despite a bit of trepidation at being utterly on my own.

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Owl is hooting. The days are growing shorter and chillier, aren't they?