I dropped my daughter off at a church camp on a beautiful lake this afternoon. She's going to be gone for a week. Strange, I'm so used to having her around. When she's gone, there's a huge hole in the house. Even my four-year-old son senses it.
Tomorrow morning, I'm going on a trip to Curtis, Michigan. I'm reading with a couple other really fine writers in the evening at the Erickson Center. I'm a little anxious about it. I haven't really done a poetry reading for almost a year. I hope I sell a couple of books. Five would be great. Anything above five would be a miracle. That would pay for the entire little adventure.
I'm not sure if I'm going to be posting tomorrow. It depends on whether my hotel has WiFi or not.
If it doesn't, the next missive you receive from Saint Marty will be on Wednesday.
Confessions of Saint Marty
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