Riches, embarrassment of

Lots of great new music coming out this spring. Aaron gives a heads-up about a new one from Mary Chapin Carpenter to be released soon; I got a coupon in my email from a certain mega-book-and-music-chain reminding me that I want to go buy Patty Griffin's new one; and also in my email today, pre-order information for Joyful Sign, coming soon from Girlyman. And when I went to a certain other mega-chain's website to check on the release date for some of the above, it helpfully informed me that the documentary about the Dixie Chicks, Shut Up and Sing, is coming out on DVD in a couple of weeks -- which is great news for me because I don't think it ever played here in town. Heck, I wasn't even tired of the last new CD I bought (Amy Ray and the Volunteers: Live in Knoxville -- great, raw, rockin', very live folkish-punkish stuff) yet.

I don't know how I'm going to find time to listen to, watch, and read all the stuff I want to listen to, watch, and read. Dang. On the good side, should I ever accidentally win the lottery or something and retire to a life of leisure, I don't have to worry about ever getting bored.

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Ginger has a nice offer of blog space for poet-bloggers who don't like the new version of Blogger.

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Today at work I was in a meeting of one committee in which we were discussing a document that had been written by a subteam of that committee. One of the questions afoot (at hand? well, it was somewhere anatomical, anyway) was whether the document was clear and conveyed what we wanted it to convey to our intended audience. My contribution to the discussion was to point out that maybe those who had written the document & had had our noses buried in it for a few weeks probably shouldn't steer the discussion by explaining what we meant in it -- that we should listen and find out what our readers understood from what was on the page, since we knew what we meant but who knows if what we meant made it to the page. You know ... your basic Creative Writing Workshop 101. Nice to think I learned something from poetry that can be put to use in a more, er, financially remunerative environment.

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Can winter be over, already? Enough! I'm tired of being cold.

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So I had m-w.com open in one browser tab to make sure I was spelling "remunerative" correctly, and I had Aaron's blog open in the next browser tab to grab the link to his Mary Chapin Carpenter post. When I went back to that browser, I realized that the page titles in those two tabs were, uh, the story of my life:

| Definition of remunerative || anything but poetry |

Ha!!