OK

Today I took the girls to see Oklahoma at the Orpheum theater. We had balcony tickets and R sat with a friend from school & his mom, while S & I sat two rows up, about as high up in the theater you could go. It was a very good production. I know some musicals - I was in The Wizard of Oz in 7th grade, and The Sound of Music in 8th grade (I played Maria - it was the high point of my career), and then in college I was in West Side Story. But I'd never seen Oklahoma and didn't even know the story before today. R had asked me, "What's this going to be about, anyway?" and all I could say was that I thought there was a probably a boy-meets-girl element to it. There was. As well as a few other things that I'm hoping pretty much went over the girls' heads.

S did pretty well sitting still. She only whispered a few times, "Mommy-mommy? Mommymommymommy, when's it going to change? if too much time had elapsed between scene changes. After the show, she said she'd liked it, but she also said it was violent. Oops.

(You know, I was going to link the above word "Orpheum" to the theater site, and found instead photos of the urinals at the theater. And then, compelled by morbid curiosity, I spent I don't care to admit how long looking at the urinal.net site. Or at least, much of it. You want culture or worthwhile musings? Go to my friend's blogs - listed to the right. You want a site entirely devoted to pictures of urinals all around the world? Well, here ya go.)

On a more significant note, a couple of days ago, I got my latest copy of APJ, The American Poetry Journal, with a short poem of mine in it. I went to the web site to see if it had been updated, and I see that the editor mentioned my name there, too. D and I just had a short conversation about my poetry. I feel like it's been about five years since I wrote anything of worth. In all that time, I could have been working on honing my craft, maturing as a poet, pounding out the one thousand mediocre lines it might take for me to write one really good piece. So what does this whining mean? It means that I feel behind. And what am I going to do about it? Write. Now.

Poetry, meditation, sleep.
Tomorrow I work 6am-2pm.
Yesterday I got rid of a wooden giraffe mask. I don't remember who gave it to me.
Today I got rid of a blue gingham dress I haven't worn in years.