I'm out of practice eating eggs, but since I mainly cook alone, I figure I need to stay busy with a full dozen before the carton expires (I had 3). I'm 4 weeks into teaching. Hard to figure what my students think of me. They seem to like my curly hair and moustache because I ask them if they do and I did this anonymously in order to get honest answers and they wrote back things like, "it's boss" "stay classy san diego" and "I'm thinking of growing one myself (which is weird because I think this was from one of the girls and she certainly should not because it would look funny).
I wrote about my conception imagining how it transpired for my non-fiction class. I was trying to frame my birth around the theme "triumph over negligence." How no one wanted me and to tell this story, or essay, with a lot of playfulness and color. I sent Mom the first few pages, a quite mellow beginning before the manure hits the fan and she took umbrage:
"Sorry, you were conceived out of love not a bunch old squirrel calls!" she writes. "We sound like a couple of hillbillies. This had better be fiction!"
Later, she writes, "You need to take out the part about your own experiences. It's not tasteful or relevant." The part about my own experiences is basically everything else, so in effect what she is saying is trash it all. Writing is hard. I try awfully hard to be funny. I recall in our workshop how one of my classmates wrote about her Mother hitting her brother with a shovel full of dog shit and I got really jealous because those episodes are what make good non-fiction to me and I wish I had this experience in my life, but sadly we never had any pets.
I am getting excited about the Cannanes show with Mia Shoen and David Nichols, their original drummer, visiting. I met David in December 2001 (which means our tenth anniversary is coming up)...here's a nice photo of me and some cannane royalty eating thai in Sydney back in June. The Belster!!