Got thrown off with having to retcon a few posts, then plunged into the heart of the residency. Day 6 was a long, long, long time ago. I think that’s because Day 5 was my emotional crash and Day 6 I was still trying to regain my equilibrium.
Anyway, this day I decided to take the morning off, do laundry and generally run around downtown for bits and pieces I needed. The laundromat was only a block away and the attendent was willing to let me just wander off while my wash was running. I found the public market a few blocks from there – a darling little farmers market and I knew I was missing real food, my own cooking, when I found myself lusting over fresh veggies stacked for sale stall after stall. To my delight and surprise, there was ethnic food to be found – Ethopian, Mexican, Chinese – plus a stone fire pizza place. Unfortunately it was only 9:30 in the morning, so I wasn’t really feeling up to eating such rich food.
Instead I picked up the requisite bottles of maple syrup for Christmas gifts, a bottle of fresh apple cider and a bagel. After putting my load in the dryer, I headed to main street, wandering to see what was there and ending up at the grocery where I picked up soy milk for the granola I’d found earlier at a deli and some water. I also found St. Augustine’s church, a sweet little Catholic church, gothic on the outside and neatly renovated on the inside. I knew I was going to miss Mass the next day, so I sat awhile, prayed a little, thanked God a lot, then wandered off to find my freshly laundered clothes. It was getting hot again and I was anxious to get back up on campus, when I was invited to lunch by a couple of gals from my cohort.
We dined luxuriously on tacos at the Mexican place – restaurant food being preferable to dorm food by a long shot. I cooled off and felt rejuvenated, especially after grabbing some Ben and Jerry’s on the way back. Up on campus, the day was dedicated to picture books and I felt a bit guilty for not attending the morning sessions since my workshop pieces were all picture books. Lectures and Q&A panels by Jeannette Larson, Sarah Sullivan, Susan Stevens Crummel, and Janet Stevens filled the afternoon. I was struck by how little I know about PBs. They’re deceptively complex, theme, plot, character, and concept all crammed into less than 500 words. These are not fleeting moments pieces like in flash fiction/poetry, but pieces relying on dramatic POV. I’ll be looking at the concepts carefully in regard to my pieces for a long while.
The bookstore yielded treasures, of course – I had hoped to discipline myself, not buying anything here since I’d have to haul it all back home, but I didn’t count on my classmates having books published and available. I toted four PBs, all signed, tokens of good luck for the future. After the BBQ and evening reading, I intended on going home – the planned dance sounded too extroverted for me, but I was convinced to at least show up for a bit. I stayed about an hour and danced – to say it was ‘fun’ simply doesn’t do the time justice. All of us who danced in the dark, glowsticks lighting up our bodies, danced with each other, all tribal and remembering a younger time – 70’s and 80’s music got our bodies moving and we didn’t care that we looked like a bunch of middle schoolers at a dance. After all, we were writers of middle grade books!
