Amazing weekend. My mom sent us to a cabin on the lake, took my boys, and stuffed money in my pocket. We went antique shopping, ate Mexican food, fed ducks, and talked for hours. It was well needed and sublime. My husband is truly my best friend.
My poetry audition went pretty well, although my nerves were a kickin and my leg was shaking uncontrollably under the podium for all to see. I wanted to shout expletives at my thigh. I think the poems were decent, but my whole body tremor was annoying.
We went for a beer at my hometown Irish pub. It was overwhelming to see how things change. It has moved locations and is no longer in the skinny building with ceilings of fire retardant spray turned black by the years of smoke drifting upwards. It is now clean and sterile and holy boring. It is no longer packed with people so tightly that bodies brush. All the cute boys of my youth must be married with beer guts at home. All the big haired girls were absent. My old teachers were not drinking whiskey at the round table looking fascinating. There was nary a drunken lush from my youth. It was empty and kinda sad. Me and Joe drank our Stella's and left. You really might not be able to go home again.