A Weekend in NYC

Saturday, I was getting ready to go up until the moment the cab arrived. When I hopped in the cab, it was nearly 70 degrees out. The flight to NYC went smoothly, but traveling from JFK airport to Laura and Ryan’s apartment in Queens took forever. Lugging a large suitcase in and out of trains and up and down flights of stairs? It’s no fun, but on the plus side, at least it gave me bruises. We dropped off my stuff, and Laura and I went for Thai food. I’m a sucker for peanut sauce.

That night, we met up with the girls for drinks. Chatting with them was fun, and we nibbled a little of my homemade fudge. We also took part in a light-beer taste test. We didn’t choose the “right” beer, so we didn’t get any swag. Oh, well.

After that, we went dancing at Branch, which is our new favorite dance club. There’s a rope out front, but the place isn’t snobby. It does have a bathroom attendant, however. I hate that. I feel like I have to tip her for handing me a paper towel even though I don’t need her to hand me a paper towel. Heh. Anyway, we had fun dancing late into the night.

Sunday, I went for brunch with Ryan and Laura. Then Laura and I went shopping. The weather was crappy, but we still had fun.

First we went to Columbus Circle to shop at the holiday market there. That’s where I got some great truffles, Madrid’s Christmas present and my scarf last year. Laura found some pretty jewelry, I got truffles again and we bought cider and a gingerbread girl.

We went into the Time Warner Center to find a warm, dry place to eat. While there, we ran into the elusive Lex! It was at Lex’s birthday party last year that I met Tom. The last time I saw her was at his birthday party last October. We had lost track of each other when her cell phone was destroyed. She didn’t have my number anymore, and I never got her new number. She gave me her new number, although I still don’t think she gave me the right one. Maybe she’s trying to give me the slip. Heh.

The shopping center has cool decorative spire-thingies that hang from the ceiling and change color in time to holiday music. Eventually Laura and I found a cozy spot and sipped our delicious cookie and sipped our cider.

Then we went to the Bryant Park holiday Market, which was a bit schmancier, with plexiglass booths instead of tents. There was a lovely tree, and Laura humored me as I snapped a picture of the lions in front of the New York Public Library. I've always loved them. I don't know why I never took their picture before. As an added bonus, right now they're bedecked with festive holiday wreaths!

Then we were off to Rockefeller Center to see the tree. This year the tree was sort of greener and bluer because they used LED lights which last thousands of hours longer and use a ton less energy. It was sweet of Laura to go with me, because she hates big crowds of tourists. We snapped a few photos before heading back to Queens where Laura made a delicious supper.

The next day, I was up by 5:45 to get around and out of the bathroom before Laura and Ryan needed it to get ready for work. Then we all set for the subway and they were off to the Bronx to teach, while I was off to Newark Airport.

From there I flew to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The runway was covered with snow (see photo at left), so I was sure I’d never make it to Iowa any time soon. I was wrong! I was delayed a little, but before I knew it, I was home sweet home with my family in Iowa. Yay!

Finishing Finals

It is, of course, December 14. I am in no way lying about the date because it is actually January 10 and I haven’t updated my blog in a month. Nope. It’s December 16^th alright. I’m exhausted. Saturday was my students’ final exam when they had to turn in their portfolio. I spent the weekend grading my students and preparing for my finals. Monday was my teaching final. Tuesday was my poetry final, and Wednesday my British literature paper was due. It was one research paper worth 50 percent of my grade. I don’t like one project being worth so much, but that’s the prof’s prerogative. Thursday I packed, cleaned, and uploaded my students’ grades.

Today was interesting. Well, it started out boring. I dropped all my library books off at the library, at which point I ran in to Jake. He seemed happy to see me, and he had been acting strangely, so the warm greeting was nice. Then I went to pick up the bus tickets I won in the silent auction. I still can’t believe my next trip to New York will cost $10 round trip!

Later in the afternoon, I got to sit in on a Q&A with a visiting author, M.G. Vassanji. According to his web site, “M. G Vassanji was born in Kenya and raised in Tanzania. Before coming to Canada in 1978, he attended MIT and the University of Pennsylvania, where he specialized in theoretical nuclear physics. […]His contributions [in the field] he considers modest, in algebraic models and high spin states. […]Vassanji is the author of six novels and two collections of short stories."

He says his writing deals with a “sense of loss,” and it’s “like breathing” to him. I asked him which part of his writing process he enjoys most, and he replied, “The word ‘satisfaction’ is better than ‘enjoy,’ because it’s like breathing. I don’t really enjoy breathing, but I feel satisfied when I’m done writing something.”

Vassanji says success as a writer requires talent, hard work and luck. He recommends the kind of discipline he learned in the sciences, and to keep everything you write: “In science, a negative outcome is still an outcome.” Vassanji warns against being too research-driven and reminds us to give our characters and stories room to change and surprise us. He also says to be honest, and “Write what you have to write.”

Not long after that, it was time for the party for Graduate Teaching Assistants in the English Department. The head of composition studies threw it at his gorgeous house. Tim had decorated the place so nicely. There was a ton of great food (I brought my fudge), drinks, and plenty of good conversation. Before I new it, it was time to run home and finish packing. Voila! Now we’re all caught up. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be in NYC!

Poached salmon, finals and preparing for Christmas

This year, I've been academically happy and very happy with my job, but my lifestyle has suffered a bit. Norfolk lacks public transportation and I lack cash. There's been less hanging out with friends, fewer restaurants, museums and concerts, and fewer evenings of partying and dancing. However, there has been one improvement: my cooking! I've added quite a few dishes to my repertoire. For finals, I decided to cook up some brain food-- poached salmon!

I know that sounds decadent, but frozen salmon was on major sale at Wal-Mart. I found a great recipe in my Better Homes and Gardens cookbook. The sauce is subtle and lemony. Warning to those who like to cover the flavor of fish: this recipe won't do that. It enhances the flavor of fish. I'm also told it's much, much yummier if the fish is fresh, but my lifestyle does not currently support such purchases. Anyhoo, here's the recipe. If you're a grown-up, it tastes quite nice with a glass of white wine.

Poached Fish with Dill Sauce
1 2 to 2.5 lb fresh or frozen dressed or pan dressed fish
3 lemon slices
1 bay leaf
1/2 tsp salt
2 T butter or margarine
4 tsp all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp sugar
2 tsp snipped fresh dill or 1/2 tsp dried dill
dash salt
1 slightly beaten egg yolk

1- Thaw fish, if frozen. Rinse fish; pat dry with paper towels. In a fish poacher or a large roasting pan that has a wire rack with handles, add enough water to almost reach the rack. Remove and grease rack; set aside. To water in pan add lemon slices, bay leaf and 1/2 tsp salt. Place pan over two burners on range top. Bring to boiling; reduce heat. Place fish on rack and lower into pan. Simmer, covered, for 15 to 20 min. or until fish flakes easily when tested with a fork. Remove fish; keep warm while preparing sauce.

2- For dill sauce, strain cooking liquid, reserving 1 cup. In a small saucepan melt butter; stir in flour, sugar, dill, and the dash of salt. Add reserved 1 cup liquid. Cook and stir until thickened and bubbly. Gradually stir about 1/2 cup of the hot butter mixture to saucepan. Cook and stir 1 minute more. Pass dill sauce with fish. (According to BHG, approx. 190 cal., 7 grams fat)

Enjoy the yumminess!

Salmon is not the only happy thing that is getting me through the stress of finals:

I made a batch of fudge and learned an important lesson: do not use reduced-fat sweetened condensed milk. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES! It tastes fine. With the fatty sweetened condensed milk, it tastes staggeringly awesome. But I've been noshing on the mediocre fudge nonetheless.

I also decorated my room for the holidays! I did it on the cheap, but the results were still pretty nice. Over the years, people have given me several ornaments and a wreath. I hung the wreath on my wall and arranged the ornaments on my book shelves as though it were a Christmas tree. I got two boxes of twinkle lights for less than five dollars and put them around my windows. Then I cut ten ornate paper snowflakes from white paper and hung them in the windows. Pretty!

This weekend I managed to finish all my grading! Today I cleaned, did two loads of laundry and began packing. I made enough suppers to get me through the week and lunches for the next two days. I have one final down and two to go. NYC and Iowa, here I come! I love you all, miss you all and can't wait to see as many of you as possible.

Blog Break

It's been a while since I posted...about two weeks. Here's the update: I made turkey noodle soup and then threw out the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers (not counting the turkey in the freezer). I had written the recipe down wrong, and I couldn't find the soup base Mom uses, so I had to experiment. My roommate, Todd, flipped out about how good it was: "This is almost better than the turkey was on Thanksgiving Day." Of course, he's never tasted Mom's, so he doesn't know what he's missing.

Since I wrote last, I have graded the first drafts of two papers and the final drafts of three papers for all my students and had conferences. On top of that, I had some major projects due in the classes I'm taking and the head of the composition department came in to observe a lesson. The observation thing freaked me out, because of my experiences at I.S. 318. I'd feel like I'd done a good job during an observation. Then half of the time my bosses would say I was great and half of the time they'd say it was awful. The thing was, I could never tell from how the class went which one they were going to say! It was all arbitrary and made me a nervous wreck. Oh, I'm so glad I quit that job...so very, very glad.

Last night, ODU's orchestra held a sing-along of the Messiah. It was so much fun to sing, especially the classic Hallelujah Chorus. I was, as usual, one of the few altos, so I kind of had to carry the line. As I explained to Todd, it's like I entered a track meet after not having run for a year. By the end, my throat was tired! It was worth it, however, and as a bonus I won a $40 round-trip bus ticket to New York for just $10 in the silent auction they were holding. SCORE!

Today was my last day of class with my first class of college students. I let them have a mini-holiday party with snacks. One student brought mini-muffins and I brought Jello Jigglers, or as we in the Midwest like to call them, Knox Blocks. One funny student was shook his head in dismay.

"What's the matter, Mitchell?" I asked.
"Isn't it a little early for Jello?" he replied.
"Oh, come on! There's always room for Jello."
"Yeah, when I'm 65 and you're hiding my pill." (I love that 65 is ancient to an 18-year-old.)
"Oh, no. Then I'd go with regular, soft Jello. Easier to chew."
"Come on, they make some surprisingly good denture adhesives these days," he quipped.
"The truth is, I wanted something easy to make, light, non-messy, easy to eat and relatively healthy. This sugar-free Jello has about 5 calories per quarter-cup." (Some of the diet-conscious girls in the class perked up at this news.)
"Actually," another student interjected, "These are pretty awesome."
So Mitchell tried one and shook his head. "I'm going to have to go out and buy some Jello, now."
Hee! That kid is just so funny, and the kids in my class were great. I'm going to miss them.

Then I went for my post-observation with my boss. It was a rave! "In terms of this lesson, nothing could be improved upon." Seriously? SERIOUSLY! Take that, crappy old school! I'm not good enough to get a good rating at your school (even though my students' scores were better than any other students' scores), but I am good enough to get an awesome rating at a state university! Ha-ha! I am redeemed. I love teaching college! I'm so lucky to have a job I enjoy.

Carb-loading

At left: more pretty foliage on the ODU campus.

Oh, dear. I don't know how much more turkey I can eat! I had been luxuriating in leftovers, but turkey seven lunches and suppers in a row is a bit much. Today I got creative and made a sandwich with bread, a layer of turkey, a layer of stuffing and a layer of mashed potatoes and gravy. It was, of course, delicious...as most insane culinary concoctions are. Yes, I'll have carbs and protein and carbs and carbs with more carbs on top! The mashed potatoes and stuffing are slowly but surely disappearing, but the turkey? I eat it and eat it, and there's hardly a dent! I finally had to break down tonight and eat something else for supper. The turkey is still moist and delicious, but I just couldn't take it any more.

Happy Thanksgiving!

This year I decided to make my first Thanksgiving dinner. Hooray! I decided to brine my turkey, then stuff it with apples and cook it in white wine. All was going well.

Thank goodness Mom warned me to thaw the turkey for four days. On day three, it was time to rub the turkey with kosher salt, and there were still big chunks of ice inside! I don't own a pot big enough to brine a turkey, so I put the salted turkey in a large plastic bag, put them in a roasting pan, and filled the bag with cool water. I then put the whole thing in the fridge.

Yesterday I also pre-chopped all my veggies and made a practice batch of stuffing in my little Crock Pot. I accidentally used oregano instead of sage (!) but I decided to go with it. I added some fresh, chopped garlic and called it Italian stuffing.

Today it was time to dump the brine down the sink. I took the pan out of fridge and carried it to the sink. I needed to lift the turkey in the bag. I tried to lift it and...the bag exploded! The top of the bag popped open, and water whooshed into the air and splattered in every direction. My roomate was stunned. Todd had looked over just in time to see the burst of water. We grabbed tons of towels and rags and paper towels to sop up all the salty turkey water. Ew.

After that was cleaned up, I stuffed the turkey and finished preparing it. Once it was in the oven, I started a new, more traditional batch of stuffing. I also started "roasting" pecans in the microwave and halving them for pecan pie. Then I peeled and chopped potatoes to cook and mash. Mashed potatoes are actually quite easy. Todd provided green beans. I used a few store-bought items for dinner: gravy, a tube of biscuits and a pre-made pie crust. Thank goodness I did! As it was, my whole day was taken up on cooking, eating or cleaning up.

I like the turkey recipe I chose. The advantages to cooking a turkey in white wine are moisture and flavor. The disadvantage is it is terrifying to try to lift the heavy pan of turkey. I was scared I would slosh boiling-hot liquid on myself. Todd came to help. As a team, we lifted out the pan to flip the bird and returned it to the oven. My turkey actually cooked an hour faster than I expected. It's a good thing I peeked in at it! The little button thing had already popped up. Todd helped me pull out the oven rack to check the bird's temperature, so we lifted it out again and slid in the pie. Later we slid in the biscuits. It all turned out just about perfect!

Todd carved off a drumstick for each of us, and we covered our plates. I only ate one plate of food, but ended up stuffed to the gills. After the meal was over, we finished carving up the turkey and packed everything away into Tupperware. Then we went on a walk to a little man-made lake a few blocks from the apartment and took a turn around campus. At 9:30, I finally had just enough room to taste the world's tiniest sliver of pecan pie with a little dollop of vanilla ice cream. YUM!

I hope all of you had a happy Thanksgiving with your families or friends. If you had it by yourself, I hope you found reasons to give thanks anyway.

Embracing autumn and preparing to give thanks.

It's finally starting to look and feel like fall here in Virginia. The leaves are turning all over campus, and it's so gorgeous that I had to go out and take pictures. This week I also started researching recipes, and yesterday I went shopping for the ingredients for Thanksgiving Dinner. One of my roomies, Todd, is sticking around for the holiday, so he agreed to pitch in some cash for the feast.

I had been thinking about spending the Holiday in NYC. I like helping a mission in the city make thousands of diners. I love the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I love how cheerful everyone in the city is that day.

Then I decided not to. Bus fare plus going our for dinners and drinks would add up to a chunk of cash quickly. I would end up spending a big hunk of break on a bus.

Also, I'd end up with a crick in my neck for the next week. If I don't get an inflatable travel neck pillow for Christmas, I'm going to buy myself one. I don't care how dorky they look. If they work as well as the online reviews suggest, it'll be worth it. Until I get myself one, however, no more uber-long bus rides. Also, I'm going to be spending a week in January staying with my friends and I don't want to wear out my welcome.

Instead I decided to stay home, get some studying done and make my first Thanksgiving Dinner! When I was a girl, my mom told me a funny story of her first Thanksgiving, and it always stuck in my head. Yesterday, I had her tell me the story again.

"It takes forever to thaw a turkey. Give it four days in the refrigerator."

"Seriously? I was going to start on Tuesday, and I thought I was overdoing it."

"Yeah, that's how much time they say it takes, but it's never enough. I always end up trying to thaw it in water in the sink. My first Thanksgiving, I didn't give it enough time to thaw, and I missed one of the bags of organs. There's a high bag and a low bag.

"What do you mean? High and low?"

"One is stuffed in the neck cavity, and the other is in the... the anal cavity, I guess? I found one, but not the other. So not only was the turkey frozen, it had this frozen bag of parts inside."

Mom also had a tough audience. Dad's younger brothers were picky eaters, and Mom had made squash. The boys wanted corn. There was no corn. Mom was already upset because of the turkey. She proclaimed, "You will eat what I made or you won't eat!" Poor Mommy.

I'm just glad I made her retell the story, or I would have had a frozen bird, too. And I knew about the "low bag," but not the "high bag."

Thanks for helping me out, Mommy. That is the whole point. It gives me something to do on a holiday away from my family and friends and gives me a low-stakes opportunity to to perfect my Thanksgiving-Dinner-making skills. If any of you have a great Worst Thanksgiving Dinner story, please post it in the comments section. Help others learn from your life experience.

My crazy New York friends.

My New York friends have gone crazy. Here’s what happened.

Friday night at 6 p.m., I get a text message from Carolina: "Alert!ALERT!T1 sighting across Bronx bar we have not yet engaged the target."

I thought this meant she had spotted a boy she wanted to flirt with, so I replied, “How hot is target?”

Soon my phone was ringing and Laura explained that I’d misunderstood. Laura, Carolina and Ryan went out for dinner and drinks after work. They spotted someone they thought might be Mr. B, a.k.a. Tom 1.0, across the bar. Apparently it had been a rough week at work, because tipsiness had already set in. They had decided to engage in some kind of covert mission to discover whether it was, indeed, Mr. B. I suggested, “Just go ask him.” This set off a flurry of debate. “Fine,” I replied, “I’ll just call him and ask where he is.” But Mr. B didn’t answer the phone.

The next thing I knew, Ryan was giving me a play-by-play as Laura crossed the room, discovered it was Mr. B and brought him over to the group. Then Carolina had the phone. “Do you want to talk to him?” “I don’t know,” I replied. “Just say, ‘Yes, I want to talk to him’ or ‘No, I don’t want to talk to him,” Carolina said. And by “said,” I mean “yelled,” because the bar was obviously loud. So loud, in fact, that I had to yell, too, for her to hear me. Anyway, she’d been yelling this with him standing right there, so I said, “Sure, Carolina, give him the phone.” Then I heard, “HERE. ERIN WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!” Hee.

When he picked up, I said, “My friends are being weird. I’m so sorry.”

“What? Perverted?”

“No, not perverted. Weird! MY FRIENDS ARE BEING WEIRD.”

He laughed and we chatted briefly. He asked what I was up to and I tried to explain, but he couldn’t really hear me. I yelled that my friends could tell him what’s up. He asked if I was ever coming back to New York, and I replied that I’d be back for a week in January. He said I should call him while I’m back, because he wants to see me. Me: “Okay, sure.” Erm…okay, sure? Well, I’m friends with most of my other ex-boyfriends, so why not?

Carolina got the phone back. “You’re not mad, right?” “No,” I said, “I’m not mad.” “Good,” she replied, “because you can’t be! There is alcohol involved, so you can’t me mad. And if you’re not mad, you can’t put it on the blog in a negative light.” Heh.

“Not in a negative light,” I replied, “But the story will be told!”

“Well, I guess we have to give you that.” Ha!

Nothing says "Merry Christmas" like a coma!

I'm disappointed. No one responded to my last post. Is anyone even reading this stuff?

Not much is new this week. On Friday, the writing center was supposed to come and make a presentation to my class, but they didn't show. I had to make up a lesson on the fly. I had everyone write all period while I went around and conferenced with them individually about their writing. One tough young man was working on a poem about missing someone. It was a little vague, so I gave him some examples of specifics: "Someone might compare it to a missing limb. You feel like it's still there, but you reach down, and it's gone." He started crying. Oops. I asked if he wanted to get a drink of water in the hall so he could collect himself, but he kept his head up and said, "Nah. I'm fine." Hee. You gotta love a big, tough athlete who's not afraid to cry. He told me he got my point about how much more powerful a concrete image can be.

In other news...a while back, I was browsing for art supplies, the type that might be suitable gifts for the young people in my life. I spent a while considering Aquadots, which looked cool. Now I'm so glad I didn't buy them. Good gracious. It's a toy that, if consumed, is metabolized as GHB! It's making little kids sick, and putting them in comas. You can still buy it some places. I like to think none of the younguns in my life would eat Aquadots, but I remember a time when I was little and didn't have any gum so I chewed on Silly Putty for a while. It was not my finest moment. I'm just saying...even smart kids sometimes do dumb things.

Thanks, Chinese toy manufacturers. First we discovered the lead-painted toys, and now this. They were supposed to use a certain non-toxic chemical to coat the dots, but instead chose a similar, cheaper toxic chemical. Scary, scary, scary. Have fun Christmas shopping, parents out there.

Kitties and gimmes.

Please click this link and watch the animated video, "Wake-up Cat." It is adorable and hilarious and reminds me of the cats I've had (Not to name names...TUT!).

A while back, I jokingly posted a link to my Amazon.com wish list. Yesterday, I chatted with my mom, and now she might use the thing for real, so here's the link again. I always have trouble coming up with a Christmas list on the fly, so I figure this is easier. If Mom wants, she can shop for me without leaving the house. It's like writing a letter to Santa, only electronic!

On the other hand, it feels a little too gimme-gimme-gimme. Here's how most stuff got on there: I would think to myself, "I want Thing X, but I don't need it right now" or "I need thing Y, but I can't afford it right now." Then, when I had a little extra money*, I'd go to the list and buy a little treat. Instead of grabbing some random thing in a store, it was always something I'd wanted for a while. That made it a little more special, and that way I never had buyer's remorse. The wish list is window shopping. I get the fun of shopping without spending any money.

I probably won't have any "extra money" for a long while. I'm going to have to get creative for gifts this year, too. Is it too late to learn to knit and make copious scarves? Never mind. I barely have time to get all my work done as it is, and I bet really pretty yarn is as expensive as many nice presents I would buy. You've got a link to what I want for Christmas. In the comments section, post what you're asking Santa for.

*Extra money was money left over after bills were paid and a portion was put into savings.

NYC and Halloween!

Happy Halloween!

If you’ve known me long, you know I love coming up with costumes. I didn’t get a chance to wear a costume out this year (unless you count dressing like Laura), but I did make one. I wanted something new, creative and cheap. What to do? Then it hit me! A costume that required nothing more than a black dress, a white shirt, a headless doll and braids. That’s right, Wednesday Addams. I tried to look creepy in the photo. How did I do? P.S. I made the doll’s dress in less than 30 minutes using a sock and a rag. Awesome, right? My costuming skills continue to rule.

As for the Laura costume, this weekend I went to the city! It was Laura’s and Tom’s birthdays, and the bus company was having a sale: round trip for $40! My taxi ride from my apartment to the station cost as much as a one way ticket to New York! The flight left an hour late, and we drove all night. By 9:15 a.m. I was on the Subway to Queens. At Laura’s apartment, we both napped, had afternoon brunch with her boyfriend, then read and napped some more.

Then it was time to go out. Laura lent me a cute black dress and a signature Laura necklace. She makes the prettiest jewelry. We went out for paella. The whole gang was there: Laura, Madrid, Carolina, Riza and I were together again! It was so good to see all of them. “But it doesn’t feel like you’re back,” Madrid said, “It feels like you’re still here. It’s like I’m not appreciating having you here enough because it just feels like it’s the we’re out for the weekend and I’ll see you in a few days.” But it was just a visit, so I hugged everyone about a thousand times.

That was it, exactly. It felt like I’d never been gone. We went on to Sutra, a trendy club that only lets you have a table if you buy a bottle. Some mediocre wine was $160 per bottle, so we took off (though Riza stayed behind when her entourage arrived, and Madrid went grocery shopping). We went to No Malice Palace (aka Goth-Hop bar, a gothic setting with hip-hop music). After dancing there for quite a while, we decided to go someplace where we could talk.

We ended up at a packed sports bar, and Laura wasn’t the happiest. She is a consummate hostess and always wants everyone to have a great time. When Carolina left, when Ryan’s friend was engrossed in texting, and when a jerk stomped on my ankle (how do you even manage that?), she swung from her usual sunny self to sadness. Nooooo! But luckily, Laura is resilient. She lets herself feel what she’s feeling in the moment, then lets the anger or sadness go.

What we didn’t know at the time was that Laura was suffering from the early stages of a migraine, which was making her more emotional. Anyhoo, everything was peachy until Laura’s friend Maria accidentally took off with my jacket. Whoops. Well, for a little while we thought it was stolen, and the stress drove Laura’s migraine over the edge. But the missing jacket mystery was solved. Even though Laura was wracked with pain (I even cried a little, because it was so sad), Ryan and I got her to laugh a little. She’s a trooper, and her hair is so shiny!

The next morning I was up by nine a.m. Nothing refreshes you like four hours of sleep. I hugged Miss Laura goodbye and schlepped up to Spanish Harlem to retrieve my jacket (H&M belted black corduroy, size 8) in exchange for Maria’s jacket (H&M buttoned brown corduroy, size 14). I guess she wasn’t chilly enough to try mine on when she left the bar. Then I cut through my favorite part of the park, Conservatory Gardens, over to my old apartment in Harlem. (In Conservatory Gardens, the flowers were still in bloom, and the bees were everywhere. See the photo I snapped at left.

At the old apartment, Rick gave me my mail, some of it from July…when I was still in the city. What’s with not giving me my mail, roomie? One voucher from the United Federation of Teachers would have paid for an eye exam and new glasses. Grr.

Then I hopped on a train down to the village where I was meeting Tom for lunch. We wandered for quite a while, trying to find an interesting restaurant that wasn’t packed like a can of sardines. Eventually we found a cute-yet-affordable bistro-ish place where I got Eggs Benedict and Tom lamented once again that he doesn’t like eggs. Well, his hanger steak looked great.

I told Tom how it felt, not like I was back, but like I’d never been gone. Like I belonged in New York, but needed to be in Virginia. I admitted that if I’d gotten into one of the New York schools, my MFA would have been something I did on the side. It wouldn’t have gotten the focus it’s getting now. He got this weird smile on his face, a smile that said “I told you so.” Not in a bad way. Back when I hadn’t decided what to do yet, Tom told me he felt like I was meant to go. At the time it bugged me, because Tom’s not into destiny. I was confused, not sure if he meant that I couldn’t cut it in the city or that he though we should be over, but had no other reason for us to break up. Now I know that he sensed what I also sensed then and know now. To be happy, I needed to see the world a new way and really focus on my career for a while.

After dinner, we decided to walk down to Chinatown, where I was supposed to arrive by 4:30 for my 5 p.m. bus. We had fun walking and talking. The only awkward moment was when we ran into two of Tom’s former students, who assumed I was his girlfriend. Mmm…no. Before we knew it, we were there, both of us amazed that there was a bus station with just one purpose: to run a daily bus back and forth between NYC and Norfolk, Virginia. Then we hugged goodbye. He kissed me on one cheek and I kissed his…and then he kissed my cheek again... thus, a little more awkwardness. But we laughed it off. I got on the bus and rode away, back to Virginia and school and my career.

Shoe update no one cares about.

I’m returning both pairs of high heels I ordered (welcome back to my wallet, $100!), but my new tennis shoes are awesome. So, too, are my fabulous boots from Mom and Dad. The heel is lower than I thought, making them more comfy than I expected. I have just one tiny quibble. I would like to wear my boots with a skirt, but I can’t. I have slender legs, and the boots are just too roomy around my ankles and calves. Oh, well. They look kickin’ under a pair of pants! Thanks again, parents.

Work, a workshop and working my wages.

This week was a little more normal, with no festival, no break and no conferences. Monday was a little unusual, because I went to a workshop for writing teachers. I’m taking a class on teaching college composition, and Professor Neff canceled class so we could all go. I carpooled over to Christopher Newport University in Newport News, VA, with Jacob (the guy in my classes who used to be a helicopter pilot in the army).

He had downloaded an audiobook of North and South, which we’re reading for our 19^th Century British Lit class. We listened to it going to and from the workshop. Cheryl Glenn, the woman conducting the workshop, is chair of the Conference on College Composition and Communication. I really liked her presentation. I disagreed on a few fine points, but overall she was great. She modeled the way composition teachers should hold their classes (lively with a lot of student interaction and input). She also had some great grading advice that may save me hours! She suggests we spend time writing comments on, but not grading, drafts. Commenting will be more fun without the pressure of grading, because you're just trying to help the student get better.

Then, when you’re grading the final paper, write the grade and three sentences: I see you were working on ______. You did a great job with ________ and __________. I hope you’ll continue to work on _________. Nice! But what about the rubric, I wondered? (A rubric is a detailed chart rating student performance in various categories to determine the overall grade.) A classmate suggested I use the rubric in conferences. Perfect! I think younger students need a detailed rubric at every step, but for college students…well, they need to get used to their grades being a little mysterious, because few professors provide detailed rubrics.

At the conference, they gave us cookies, free books and the centerpieces. I ended up with a little raffia pumpkin and a flower. (See photo above, left.) It’s so cute. I’ve been wanting a plant, but couldn’t justify the expense. Free flowers, hooray! I’m going to name it. Penelope, maybe? I’m open to suggestions, so please respond with some. Man, I hope I don't kill it.

Tuesday I had a midterm that took longer than usual. I also had to write two poems and write two responses before class at seven. I just barely got it all done. Wednesday I was finishing the first half of North and South. After class, Jake was going to check out a local Peruvian restaurant and asked if I wanted to come with. I agreed, and the food was lovely. Mmmm…steak with bean-infused rice (bean-coated rice? I don’t know how to explain it.) On the side was a chopped salad of tomatoes and red onions and I had a fabulous Peruvian soda that Jake describes as a combination of mountain dew and cream soda. I think it tasted more like the pineapple soda I used to get sometimes in Spanish Harlem.

Jake proposed an interesting idea. He thinks everyone should have to serve the country for two years after high school graduation. You wouldn’t have to sign up for the military (although you could). You could choose a program like the Red Cross or Habitat for Humanity or Americorps. Whatever the program, everyone in America would get to experience discipline and community. Everyone would have a working skill and would have access to undergraduate education after their term of service. I think it’s brilliant. The lack of freedom would be annoying, but there are so many people out there who are convinced they can’t accomplish anything. With a program like this, they would have to. After dinner, I spotted the craziest car in the parking lot.

Thursday I was in full research mode, working on my 19^th Century Lit class. We read an excerpt from Eastern Life, Present and Past by Harriet Martineau. In one part of the book, she describes the "hareems" she visited, and when I got home I turned on the TV. “The Girls Next Door,” a “reality show” about life in the Playboy Mansion, was on. The Playboy Mansion was eerily like the harems described in the article. I had to research on line so I could properly site the episode in my paper. I think this is the kind of project that makes my dad feel skeptical about the over-educated. The point is, we study the past to better understand our current culture and our daily lives. The show is evidence that, two hundred years after the original text, people are still fascinated by rich guys with too many girlfriends living under one roof.

I’ve already written a tome on my online shopping adventure. Since then it’s all been studying. You know, I have some young relatives who read this blog once in a while. I sometimes wonder: Am I being a good example to talk so much about money and other material things?

The answer is: Yes! Establishing a healthy relationship with money will helps to establish good credit, live within one's means, save up for important opportunities and buy only what one really needs or really wants. It’s also essential for healthy relationships. (According to a survey by Consumer Credit Counseling Service, “sixty percent of married respondents report fighting about money with their spouse. In addition, nineteen percent said that financial problems negatively affected their relationships with their parents; while thirteen percent said the same was true for their friends.”)

It’s important, but it’s not easy. I’m not going to pretend it is! Right now, my bank account looks like it has plenty of money, but I’ll have to buy Christmas presents before long. I have gigantic NYC taxes to face in April, and I don’t get paid over the summer, so I need enough cash left over to cover three and a half months’ expenses. If I want to go home for the summer, I’ll need money for plane tickets, too. I have to be careful without becoming a miser. Being too miserly will make you just as miserable as being broke (those words are related for a reason). I'm just trying to find the balance. I hope you all find it, too.

So here are my rules: 1- credit cards are only for emergencies, and should be paid off aggressively, and 2- think about tomorrow when spending today. Suze Orman says to ask yourself: Is it kind? Is it necessary? Is it true? If the answer to any of those questions is no, don’t buy it. (For example, take credit card debt. "It's not kind. Is it necessary? You know that it isn't. And if you don't have the money to pay for it outright, it is not true. If you have to put it on a credit card, it's not true." From Oprah.com.) Oh, how I love that woman and her crazy leather clothes. Her fashion? Sometimes crazy. Her advice? Always brilliant.

Covering my feet.

Yesterday, I was so happy and proud of how well I was doing financially. (I set up an IRA account to roll over the money from my NYC retirement money.) I make a poverty-level salary, but if I scrimp and save properly, I should be able to get by. The thing is, I need to make certain investments.

I need trips home to visit my friends and family to recharge. I need books for my classes and for my poetry reading list (required for all poetry MFA students). I need basic clothing to keep me warm, and professional clothing so I can make good impressions on visiting writers, supervisors and the potential employers when I look for summer jobs or employment after graduation.

I've known for a while that I have a shoe problem. When I was packing up all my stuff in New York, I sorted through my clothes and got rid of most of my clothes that didn't fit or that I hadn't worn in a year. As a result, I am down to nine pairs of shoes...and that's counting my heavy snow boots, which won't do me much good in southern Virginia. (See all except the snow boots at left). I adore my flip-flops, my strappy ballet-sneaker hybrids, my sequined high-heeled sandals and my dark brown knee-high boots (though I only bought them because the store didn't have that size and style in black).

However, my sneakers are a half-size too small and I've almost worn the tread off them. (They were shoes I bought to wear just until I found shoes that fit.) My beige wedges give me blisters. I only keep them because they're my only non-black dressy shoes. I never wear my brown ankle boots. My patent leather high-heeled Mary Janes are adorable, but VERY high-heeled. They're not the comfiest, and they're a bit too saucy for job interviews and the like. In other words, I own nine pairs of shoes, but I only really wear four pairs. Only one of those four will work in cold weather: the high-heeled boots, which wouldn't be too comfy for walking around all day long or teaching. Also, because they're brown, they don't go with most of my clothing.

I was on the J.C. Penney's web site, looking at leather jackets. Mom and Dad bought me an adorable jacket last year, but it didn't fit. I returned it in exchange for a J.C. Penney's gift card. While searching "leather" on the store's site, I didn't see a jacket I wanted for the right price, but I did see a perfect pair of black leather boots. Thanks for the pretty boots, Mom and Dad!

I decided to pay more than my usual $30 a pair in the hopes that these will last longer than my usual cheapo boots. (I tend to wear through the heels of a pair a year.) Then I got to thinking about my other shoe needs. I do not love shoe shopping, so I decided to get it over with, all at once.

Recently a fellow MFA student recommended Zappos.com to me. Zappos offers narrow sizes(HOORAY!), free overnight shipping and free return shipping. They have a 100% satisfaction guarantee. I decided to try it out.

In the old fashioned way of shoe shopping, I would go into a store and try on every pair of any shoe even close to suitable for the given occasion in both a 9.5 and a 10. Most stores don't have narrow sizes, so I could only try styles with straps. About an hour later, with the salesperson and I on the verge of a breakdown, I would buy the one pair that fit my long, skinny feet or walk out frustrated and empty-handed, only to have to start over in the next store.

Now I don't know if all the shoes will fit when they arrive, but so far I like online shoe shopping much better than the old fashioned way. You click your size (including narrow width !), style, and price range. Then you just look at the pretty pictures, read the description and click it into your cart.

I found a pair of black peep-toed heels, boring black sneakers and brown peep-toed sling-backs (Hello, non-black shoes! Someday, when I have two nickels to rub together, there will be more of you!) that were in my budget. Hooray! There were some non-peep-toed-shoes I liked, but they were too pricey, so my big toe may have to chill a little. The shoes should arrive tomorrow and I'm so excited. I'll be a little disappointed if they don't fit, but the return policy seems easy. Yay!

I was still within my budget, but then this morning, my bag broke! NOOOO! I'm not one of those handbag girls with a million purses. I don't care about designers or the latest style, but I did love that bag. It was a cute fake-leather tote that was half-briefcase, half-purse. It fit my grade book, a notebook and a text book, as well as everything I normally keep in my purse. I could go straight from class or work to dinner or drinks with it. It looked so nice.

Women would stop me to tell me they'd been searching for something just like it. Now I can see why! I've been looking online all day, and can't find anything suitable for less than $60, which, post shoe-shopping, is not in my budget. I bought the old one cheap at Kmart or Target or Gordmans a year or two ago. I always thought it was great that I paid a tiny price for something that looked like a million bucks, but now I'm taking the hit that often comes with cheap things.

I can't afford a cute new briefcase/shoulder bag hybrid, but I found a few I like and have put them on my Amazon.com Wish List. If any of you wants to buy me an extravagant present (and you know you do), take your pick and send it my way. Until then (or until I save up), I'll have to make due with the adorable, sporty Gap laptop bag Mom and Dad got me a few years ago. My cousin Jenny got one, and I coveted it so much that my parents got me one of my own. It works well for a grad student. I'll just need the fancier one when I start looking for jobs.

Conferences, Geneology and Poetry.

Fall break (Oct. 6-9) went by so quickly! I was exhausted from the literature festival. I was trying to get all my work done, while also attending tons of readings, lunches, receptions and after-hours gatherings (and I snapped this photo of the school mascot). I basically crashed all weekend, then used Monday and Tuesday to play catch-up.

Wednesday and Friday I had my first student conferences. For the paper they recently turned in, some students didn’t cite their sources properly, and one young woman seemed to have straight-up plagiarized hers. I had a tough decision to make. Would I just turn them in or try to put the fear of God into them? I decided not to possibly end their academic careers because I had a suspicion that was quickly confirmed: “That’s how I wrote my papers in high school, and no one ever said anything,” said plagiarism girl. The others said things like, “Well, I changed some words,” or “My teachers said you didn’t have to quote definitions.” WHAT??? Wrong, wrong, wrong.

My suspicion was that that some of my students came from the kind of school I used to teach at, schools where their teachers were overwhelmed by having too many classes filled with too many students, many of whom had deficient writing skills. Those fine men and women were just struggling to keep everyone’s heads above water and get everyone graduated. As such, they did not have the time or energy for teaching the finer points of quoting, paraphrasing and using proper notation. They didn’t have the time and energy to play plagiarism police. So I went for scaring them, but in a good-cop kind of way:

Me (with scary, serious tone): Is there anything you want to tell me about this paper?

Them (scared witless, but trying to hide it): No. Why? What do you mean?

Me: Let me read you the school policy from the syllabus. (Then I did, and if they still didn’t crack, I pointed out sections with obvious shifts in voice or information they couldn’t have without a source.)

Them: (Various excuses.)

Me (gravely, yet conspiratorially): Listen, most teachers would have just turned this paper in to the plagiarism board. Your teachers don’t need proof. If they even suspect you of cheating, they can pass the paper on for the board to investigate, and the board looks into it and decides what will happen to you. (True, true, and mostly true. The board gives the teacher a recommendation of what should happen to the student, but the teacher gets the final say. However, if the student is found to have cheated, it goes on their record regardless.)

Them: I’m sooo sorry. I’ll be more careful! It will never happen again.

Me: See that it doesn’t. I would hate to see your academic career ended over something like this. Besides, I want to read what you think and what you have to say.”

It wasn’t all bad. I got to have some good conversations with my students that may have made them better writers. I love one-on-one teaching experiences.

That weekend, I was so tired! During conferences, I’d have conferences from 8 a.m. until my 4 p.m. class, then class until 7. By the weekend, I was tuckered out, although I did start working on some poems. When poet Honree Fanine Jeffers was here, she read about a Cherokee ancestor who left her tribe behind to marry a slave.

I was struck by a question: How do two people of such different backgrounds come in contact? How do they decide to get married? I grew up knowing we had some Native American (Indian?) blood, and I remembered Grandma Carol talking about a Johnson ancestor whose Christian name was Rebecca.

I wrote a poem about it, then called my mom – keeper of the family tree … until it blew away – to get more details. Without the written tree, the only Indian ancestor she could think of on the Johnson line was…POCAHONTAS! (“WHAT?”) Okay, I vaguely remember being told that as a child, but as a little girl I could never keep straight if it was Pocahontas or Sacagawea. Years later, when I did research, I found conclusively that we could not be related to Sacagawea. Well, that makes sense, since we’re not even rumored to be related to her.

This new correction sent me after some new research on a forum for descendants of Pocahontas (http://genforum.genealogy.com/pocahontas/). Okay, I found a Johnson ancestor linked to her, but that link is through a “Blue Bolling.” Pocahontas and her husband, John Rolfe, had one son, Thomas, who married Jane Poythress and had one daughter, Jane Rolfe. She married Robert Bolling and had one son, John Bolling. John married Mary Kenyon, and they had various descendants. I say various, because some people are confirmed descendants (known as “Red Bollings”); some are relatives, but not blood descendants of Pocahontas (known as “White Bollings); and some have been linked to the Pocahontas through mysterious Bollings who seemed to appear years later from out of the blue (“Blue Bollings”). So far, it appears we descend from the Blue Bollings.

It’s entirely possible that I was tracing the wrong Johnson, and I’ll probably look into it in the future, but for now it’s a maybe. One way or another, someone in the family tree had to be American Indian. I mean, look at J.B.’s hair and eyes! Even if Pocahontas was an ancestor, could one woman in the 1600s have that much affect on his appearance? I suspect there were other Native American women mixed in here and there. Pocahontas is just the one the family claimed. She was famous and noble. Maybe some of my ancestors didn’t want to claim an average American Indian, but would claim and Indian “princess.” Well, if we claim Pocahontas, we also have to claim John Rolfe, the man who gave birth to the modern tobacco industry. Rolfe replaced the harsh, native Virginia tobacco (which the whites didn’t like and couldn’t sell) with “sweeter strains from Trinidad,” according to Wikipedia (where I also found the portrait above, left, by Simon van de Passe.)

That led more, interesting poems – not to mention more interesting poems. (What a difference a comma makes!) I’m taking inspiration wherever I can find it, and adding it to my file. A few poems have been lost. I forgot them before I got them written down or I lost the notebooks or scraps of paper or napkins they were written on. That weekend, I added my 150^th poem to the file! That’s a lot of poems. Wish me luck on adding more, better poetry.

My tummy rejoices at the glory of the chicken!

Tonight I made the most glorious dish I have ever cooked. Oh, the Sage and Saffron Risotto was impressive. The Chicken la Bodega was scrumptious. But this, Garlic Chicken and Peppers with Beans is in a world of its own. I must give it a zippier name.

I found it online when I was looking for a way to use up some chicken stock and white wine I had opened for another recipe. I wasn't sure I'd like it. I'm not that big on cooked red peppers. Correction: I wasn't very big on cooked red peppers. I am telling you, people! This is one to try.

Garlic Chicken and Peppers with Beans

1/4 cup olive oil
2 red bell peppers, stemmed, seeded, and cut into 1/4-inch strips
1 chicken, cut into 8 pieces (3 1/2 pounds) [They're crazy. I used 2 lbs. of thighs and had 5 servings.]
1 cup dry white wine
1 cup chicken broth
6 garlic cloves
1 teaspoon dried sage leaves, or 8 large fresh leaves, snipped
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 can (15 ounces) white cannellini beans [aka white kidney beans], rinsed and drained
1 can (15 ounces) small red kidney beans, rinsed and drained
1/4 cup (packed) flat-leaf parsley leaves

Preheat oven to 375°F.

Heat the oil in a deep 6-quart flameproof casserole over medium-high heat. Add the bell peppers, cover, and cook over low heat until tender, 5 minutes. While these are cooking, remove the skin from the chicken pieces (except for the wings, where it is just too hard).

Push the peppers to the side and add the chicken. Cook over medium heat just to stiffen the flesh, 2 minutes on each side. Remove the breast pieces from the casserole and set them aside. [if you're just using thighs, just leave them in.] Add the wine, broth, garlic, and sage and bring the liquid to a simmer. Add 1 teaspoon salt and pepper to taste. Cover, transfer the casserole to the oven, and bake for 30 minutes.

Return the breast meat to the casserole, and add the white and red beans. Continue to bake, uncovered, until the chicken is cooked through, 15 minutes. While the chicken is cooking, coarsely chop the parsley.

Serve the chicken in deep bowls, sprinkled with fresh parsley and swimming in all its lovely fragrant juices. Or, using a slotted spoon, transfer chicken and beans to a serving plate. Boil the juices down until only 2 cups remain, 3 to 4 minutes. Adjust the seasoning, stir in the parsley, and ladle the sauce over the chicken and beans.

Time: 15 minutes preparation. 1 hour no-work baking time.

Makes 4 servings. [Again I say, 2 lbs. of thighs yielded 5 big servings.]

Try it, people! Your house will smell fabulous, and it will be the most flavorful, juicy chicken you've ever had.

ODU Literature Festival- Day 4!

ODU Literature Festival- Day 3!

Wednesday morning came so early! I was sleepy from all I had been doing the last two days. I’d been rushing around constantly, from teaching to studying to this reception to that author’s reading. I had my students give me a little midterm evaluation, just to see how I’m doing. The results were mixed.

Some thought I explained things too much, others not enough. No one thought my class was boring (I’m very proud of that). A few students tried to scam me: “We should do more readings in class so we don’t have to do them at home.” “You shouldn’t ask us to do so much at an 8 a.m. class.” Hee! There were some constructive suggestions about how I should structure class, but what’s with the laziness, people? Human nature, I guess…well, at least Freshman nature.

The lit fest kicked off for the day with a reading by poet Alan Shapiro. One of my poetry classmates got to introduce him. She had been talking about it for weeks. He is her “poetry hero,” and made her want to be a poet. I’d gotten to chat with him at lunch, and he was rather funny, talking about his life.

Shapiro grew up with Yiddish in the home and American English outside. When people describe him as a Jewish-American poet, he responds that he lives in the hyphen: “That’s where my imagination is most fertile: in the mixing ground where it’s more impure.” He’s also fascinated by the gods, and what people are capable of. “The gods are incapable of excellence because they have no limits.” He contrasted this with the acts of athletes, “whose human bodies are basically like ours,” but are capable of amazing feats.

His poetry is bitter-sweet and daring. Some is abstract. Others are inspired by things he's observed in life. For example one heartbreaking poem about a relationship disolving shocked the audience into laughter with the line “It’s not the eggrolls, Harry. It’s the last ten years!” During the Q&A, someone asked about the humor in his poetry.

“Life is miserable,” he replied. “I don’t know how you live in the presence of the sorrow and mortal terror without a sense of humor.” Yow.

Then it was off to class. We were discussing 19^th Century prose (and unfortunately missing a reading by Navajo poet Sherwin Bitsui). Then professor Moraou was nice enough to let us out early. Jake and I walked over. Then I was back to work hosting. Yippee. The director of the festival, Janet Peery, thanked me many times. She kept telling me she was impressed by my grace as a hostess. I appreciated the recognition and it’s great that I made a good impression on one of the top members of the MFA faculty (who is also a talented writer).

I missed Sherwin Bitsui's reading, but at least I got to talk with him for a while. He had some interesting things to say about the trickster figure in mythology and the way his culture shapes his work. He was also great about chatting with ODU students of many different majors and backgrounds.

I also chatted with Jill McCorkle. She's written five novels and three story collection and she's won lots of prizes. It turns out, I had taught one of her stories to my students in the Bronx. We would read it and the students would respond by writing descriptions of their neighborhoods. They loved it. Jill McCorkle replied that that was amazing because she used the story for the same purpose with her students! When I told her about how much my students loved the story, and the great stories they wrote, she told me it was one of the finest compliments she could receive.

The story she read was in turns hilarious and heartbreaking. I cried a little, and I was not alone. I even caught some guys sniffling. It was fiction, but so true to life. She was the first writer so far who made me feel like I might want to write a short story and might actually be able to write one.

That night, the after hours was a lot of fun. I chatted with Mary, Dana, Leslie and Jake. The hours slipped away again until it was time to go home again and hit the hay.

ODU Literature Festival- Day 2!

Tuesday I had office hours, then went to Janine Latus’s reading. She’s a journalist and essayist. Her new book, If I Am Missing or Dead, was the story of two women (Latus and her sister Amy) and the abusive relationships they experienced. I really want to buy that one and read it, maybe during Christmas break. Latus touched me from the start: “I am an author. I like to say I am an author, because… I like to say ‘I am an author.’” This made the audience laugh as she explained she started saying it as a five-year-old. Only after her first book was published did she really feel it was true.

Latus also gave her top five writer tips: 1- Marry someone with health insurance. 2- Pay attention. The best stories are often in your own life. 3- Help each other. Share your contacts in the industry. Help each other revise. Give encouragement. 4- Practice your craft. Find the perfect verbs. Remove all modifiers. Caress your sentences. Linger. 5- Persevere. Eighty percent of Latus’ submissions are rejected, and she’s a successful author. 6- Be brave.

Latus also outlined the process of creating If I Am Missing or Dead, from proposal to drafting to publishing. She also took the time to inform the audience about domestic violence. After reading If I Am Missing or Dead and talking to Latus, the National Network to End Domestic Violence changed the name of its Direct Assistance Fund to the Amy's Courage Fund. According to the organization’s web site, “Amy’s Courage Fund provides emergency financial assistance of up to $2,000 to victims of domestic violence and their children to meet their immediate needs after escaping an abusive home.”

Some of Latus’ family members were enraged at her for publishing family secrets. They didn’t want to believe the abuse she and Amy faced, but the fund helped soothe those wounds. It helped the family feel the tragedy wasn’t all for nothing, and Latus’ book wasn’t published for selfish reasons. Of writing, she advised: “Tell the truth. That is the writer’s challenge, gift and opportunity.”

A few hours later, I had the opportunity to hear Sabina Murray read. She teaches in the MFA program at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. She’s won a bunch of fancy awards. Her writing is rich and intriguing, but it’s also very idea-based. I think it would be interesting to read one of her books and get to pour over it. Listening to it was a little challenging. Some texts are like that. You have to see the words on the page to really get immersed in the book’s world.

Murray’s characters often talk about ideas, and not everyone gets it. “Some people say to me, ‘No one I know talks like that.’ And I think to myself, ‘You should get smarter friends.’” That made everyone laugh. Murray is half Filipina. She says one thing she loves about it is that the Filipino community doesn’t expect her to just write Filipino stories. They want her to write a wide variety, showing that Filipino writers can write about anything. Her publishers weren’t so sure. They wanted her to be the Amy Tan of the Philippines. She wanted to write about white male widowers in Forgery and a young, female cannibal in A Carnivore’s Inquiry. Luckily, her first book of stories, a few of which were based on her grandmother’s life in the Philippines, was so highly acclaimed that her publisher kind of had to let her do what she wanted. Heh.

Next was my first go at hosting a reception. I put some finishing touches on the room, was a liaison between the program director and the catering staff and made sure the authors were happy. It’s also when I started getting to know Sabina. We chatted for a while. I also started to make friends with some of the MFA girls, especially Leslie, Dana and Mary.

Next up was William Henry Lewis’ reading…or as we call him, Hank! Hank is a prize-winning short story writer. He started off by reading a poem by my teacher (and his former teacher), Tim Seibles. Then he read his own poem inspired by Tim. It was great. Then he read a powerhouse short story. I wish I’d known about him when I was teaching, because I think my students would have connected well with his work.

Hank writes slowly, just a handful of stories each year, and he’ll often write 20 drafts. Unreal! He joked, “I’m not very smart, so it takes me a while to get to know the characters.” He said he became a writer because “I wanted to engage language in a beautiful way.”

That night I went to the after-hours gathering. It was so much fun. I ended up chatting with Sabina and Mary and her husband Roberto for hours. It was great! Before I knew it, it was time to go home and hit the hay.

ODU Literature Festival- Day 1!

This week was ODU’s 30^th Annual Literature Festival! This year’s theme was “Tradition and the Individual Voice.” Some of the events and speakers tied in with the blues, and call and response. I decided the festival would be an amazing opportunity to make a name for myself in the program, make some friends, connect with authors and get inspired. To do so, I signed up to host several receptions and went to as many events as I could. I missed two for class and two when I needed to do homework, but I caught all the rest of them.

Monday, I taught class and collected my students’ analysis papers. Then I went back to the apartment to study. That night, though, I went to the author’s reception and got to hear Rick Bass read. At the reception I was observing so I would know what to do when I was a host. I also schmoozed a bit and at one point I noticed a problem. Each time Bass razed an hors d'oeuvre to his lips, someone would ask him a question, so he’d have to put it down. During a lull, I went over and guarded him so he could chew and swallow. He laughed, but he seemed to appreciate it.

Bass has written 23 books of fiction and often writes about the environment. During the Q&A, he was asked, “Is literature dead?”

“Yes. If it’s not dying, it’s on the ropes. But so is everything else precious and specific.” He went on to mourn the “affluence of culture” and “vanishing of nature.” Bass said he sometimes wonders if writing short stories is an indulgence. If literature is dying, he concluded, we must cherish it. He also gave some interesting advice on writing characters. He said he doesn’t know everything about the people he creates. He looks for opportunities for them to move new ways. “If you know the ending when you begin, you might as well write a travel brochure. ‘Come enjoy our sunny state.’” The contrast is fascinating: He is pessimistic about the state of literature and the environment, but he shows optimism in his writing and environmental activism. In real life he writes nonfiction pieces to inform the public about wildlife areas that need preservation. In his stories, you can learn about some of the same issues, but it's never preachy. The characters just experience the environment. It touches them (and the readers) in subtle ways.