I am behind on everything: email (whose bright idea was it to sign up on a couple of high-volume listservs, AND about seventy bajillion different National Poetry Month "get a poem a day in your email!" dealies? I realized today I had so much crap in my inbox that I'd actually missed some real, sent-only-to-me emails. Eek!), house cleaning, reading, writing, submissions, NaPoWriMo (I think I'm two days behind on that now and I may just throw in the towel) ... everything.
Today my poetry group met out at the home of one of our members. Helen lives way out in the country, so we all gathered at Tonia's house and rode out together in Deborah's lovely Prius. On the way out there we saw a large wild turkey flying along beside the road and then it crossed in front of us and landed on the other side of the road. It wasn't flying very high, maybe three or four feet -- turkeys are not particularly aerodynamic. It actually looked rather like a vulture that had swallowed a basketball. I wouldn't have recognized it as a turkey until it landed, if someone hadn't pointed it out to me. And now I'm thinking about that episode of WKRP in Cincinnati where Les Nessman finds out that turkeys can't fly. Well, apparently they can. Sort of.
I've been poking around trying to find out if by chance there might be any poetry readings or anything else vaguely literary going on in South Bend the week I'll be up there for my mom's surgery. So far, no dice. It's probably just as well, as I imagine I'll be booked fairly solid with the caretaking stuff.
I've also been reading Mark Doty's newest memoir, Dog Years, and really loving it. I am a sucker for good animal stories anyway, plus I like Doty's memoirs in general. I'm slowing down as I get close to the end, because I know it's going to get really sad pretty soon.
It's Little 500 Weekend here in Bloomington (aka "The World's Greatest College Weekend" aka "most sane people over the age of 25 or so stay as far away from campus as possible all weekend"). The Little 500 is the bike race made famous in the movie Breaking Away, which I really need to get around to owning. That movie came out just a few months before I arrived here as a dewy-eyed freshman, so I went to see it in the theater all excited that there was a whole movie about the place where I was going to be spending the next four years of my life. Little did I know, then, that I'd be spending at least the next 28 years here. Yes, I have lived here for almost thirty years. God, I'm old.