Question: is The Unwillingness
a. the name of my new band?
b. the name of Jorie Graham's new book of poems?
or is it
c. the state of mind that has gripped me, now that it appears to be fall, really fall?
Unwillingness to buckle down and do my work, read my drafts, respond to student posts. Unwillingness to concede that I am obligated to send certain e-mails, set up meetings, follow through on commitments, give people answers to questions.
I just want to do other things, like make applesauce and add voile edges to certain clothes that I am itching to cut up and make into other, more interesting clothes. Like learn, finally, to make podcasts. Like hang out with the kids when they're home and they're willing. Like finally, finally get caught up on certain television shows I haven't gotten around to watching, like season 2 and following of Six Feet Under and Weeds. Or think of ways to support myself with internet activities. Or store nuts for the winter.
In other news, a genius contraption I recently purchased for the fat price of $8 is a little sandwich grill. Nothing fancy, I got it at Target when they were selling cheap microwaves, coffeemakers, and tiny refrigerators for college kids to outfit their dorm rooms with. The historian's son made us grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches with his one day when we dropped by for lunch, and they were so delicious that I got my own. Sort of like a panini maker, but American?
Anyway, it turns out that running son and college daughter are mad for these sandwiches, and they'll stand around and talk to you while you make them one, and they are grateful. Mothers and fathers of America: making your kids completely self-reliant is a little bit over-rated. You want them to be able to do these things for themselves, but to be willing to let you do these things for them, because the kids, who otherwise dole out information about their lives in tiny, tiny useless molecules of information, will chat in an affable and one might say even voluble way while you perform this modest service. It's a better-than-even trade-off for the parents.