July 17: Another Story, Bedtime, Harry Potter

"Tell me another story!" begged Wilbur.

Charlotte tells Wilbur a story about her cousin who trapped a fish in her web.  Then she tells him a story about her cousin who was a balloonist.  Finally, Charlotte sings Wilbur a lullaby.


That pretty much describes my son's bedtime ritual.  A couple of books, a lullaby, some prayers.  Recently, I've been reading him I Love You, Stinky Face.  Tonight, however, we embarked upon Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.  I thought my son would last about two sentences.  He listened for close to 25 minutes.  Almost the entire first chapter.

He really got into it.  Of course, it helped that I did my best Richard Harris and Maggie Smith impersonations.  I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep it up.  My Alan Rickman is a little rusty, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to pull off Emma Watson.  But I will persevere as long as my son is interested.

I'm looking forward to rediscovering the Harry Potter books.  It's been a long time since I visited Hogwarts.  For instance, I completely forgot that the first chapter of the first book is almost entirely focused on Mr. Dursley, and the writing itself obviously targets a much younger audience than the later books in the series.

I hope my son wants to return to Privet Drive tomorrow night.  Bedtime was great this evening.  Plus, it's a lot more interesting than Stinky Face.

And Saint Marty has always wanted to be a Gryffindor.

Repeat after me:  I solemnly swear I am up to no good!

June 12: Another Story, Waiting for Rain, Publication

"Tell me another story!" begged Wilbur.

Wilbur is expressing a very human urge.  We all love to hear good stories.  That's why books like Charlotte's Web and The Catcher in the Rye and A Christmas Carol still exist.  They are wonderful tales.

I have not been reading much this week.  Nothing new resides in my book bag.  I've read a few good poems, but most of my reading has been back issues of Entertainment Weekly in my bathroom.  Yes, I deserve to be shamed.  I apologize.  In my defense, I have been working like mad on my Father's Day poem, which I will unveil to my disciples this Sunday.  Hopefully.

At the moment, I'm sitting in my office, blogging, waiting for the rain to start while my daughter is at dance rehearsal.  It looks like the heavens are really going to unleash something.  Dark, low clouds.  Plenty of wind.  Dusk falling.

I have decided that I am going to put forth a concerted effort to publish this summer.  I have a completed poetry manuscript that I need to place somewhere.  Somewhere good.  If I am ever going to get a full-time teaching position at a university anywhere, I need to publish.  Unfortunately, the old chestnut is true:  publish or perish.  I've been perishing for way too long.

Well, it's time to pick up my daughter.  No rain.

Saint Marty isn't going to get wet.  Yet.

This says it all