Just minutes before the last meeting of Summer, I think about what I have to do tomorrow, early to winery for some meeting.. but before that, wake early to run. No more of this waking after 7 as I did this morning and yesterday, and if I don’t go running then I’ll write. All papers to hand back, right in front of me.. just wrote an email, and I find it hard to turn this off, this tireless writer. But.. need to assemble writings to sell, and I’ll bind the pages, copy, with the next sizable check I get, which should be any day now. Just have to be patient, and hope no bills hit before. Hate that.
This adjunct office telling me now to get out, go to class early.. have a snack. I brought the group veggies and dip as I vocally devoted. Hoping not to stay too long, leave at 7, or 7:30.. want to see my little Beat, and Ms. Alice, and just relax on that front patio of the Autumn Walk base as I rarely have opp’ to so do. Finishing this water I realize I should have bought two. The dip always makes me thirsty. Are there any waters in the fridge, some other instructor’s? I’ll see. But I don’t think so and I’d hate to take theirs as I would hate if someone took mine.. so no, not doing that.
Celebrating tonight, the term’s end, with the red blend that one of the Christopher Creek chaps me gifted. Thinking the red blend– or no, maybe that Merlot from their Napa label. Yes, decided.. and for dinner, what? Problems of a wine writer silly I know but I have to log it here otherwise it’s never logged. And I decided driving home last night that poetry and prose releases will always be separate, never “blended”, if you would, as Hemingway did with ‘3 Stories, 10 Poems’, I think it’s called. No. My releases will be one, or other. Never an overlap. Single varietal….. Again.. if you would.