things I am looking forward to once my grades are in.

• planting flowers. loads of them.
• assembling delicious dinners with lots of vegetables. lots.
• wearing white clothes like crazy.
• waking up whenever.
• sleeping with the fan on.
• reading all the books that are waiting for me to read them. maybe Moby Dick.
• watching that damn Lemonade visual album for heaven's sake.
• breakfast with my daughter.
• my parents' sixtieth wedding anniversary party.
• going to Phoenix to hang out with my son and daughter-in-law, and Will and Van.
• writing poems every day. poems for days. poems like mad.
• organizing things around here so that things are immaculate. (I know that's not real, but maybe closer to immaculate. the next county over from immaculate. from here, it's just a short, 30 minute drive to immaculate. I could call immaculate and it wouldn't be long distance. immaculate and I are in the same time zone. like that.)
• making video essays.
• visit to my friend in NoCal.
• long walks at night, when it's cool, with Bruiser and the historian.
• seeing grandkids galore!
• hopefully even more visits to further climes.
• dreaming time.
• and so forth.

I am turning my grades in tomorrow, so all this magic begins in mere hours. MERE HOURS is when the magic starts.

Miracle thinking.

Here are strategies I'm considering for finishing my two presentations in time to deliver them at the end of the week:

1. Be two people.

2. Turn the still-unclaimed sessions on my consultation calendar into ghost sessions. So no one can find them. Magic: extra time.

3. Run faster, jump higher.

4. Superior state of mind, superior mental attitude.

5. Eat only superfoods.

6. Be like Don Draper in a pitch meeting. But that one where he sells them the carousel, not that one where he tells them about the prostitute who gave him a candy bar.

7. Stay up all hours?

8. Be like Quicksilver, but in terms of writing and video-essay-making.

I'm also considering rewinding time, and making better decisions, like maybe not having proposed two proposals or maybe even one proposal? 

Magical household.

My washing machine did heal itself. Apparently, it just needed a little break from its job, much like the rest of us do. Shortly after I posted yesterday, and after I had tentatively switched a few breakers on and off like I knew what I was doing, which I patently did not, the washing machine drained itself and went into the rinse-and-spin cycles. Like the champ that it is.

Now, if my household would just

• vacuum its own rugs,
• clean out its own refrigerator,
• hang up its own clothes,
• sort its own excess,
• clear the kitchen table of its mail and books and whatnot, and
• do the thinking for me about my poetic project, so that I can
• revise my manuscript into the winner I know it can be,

then I would

• solve the debt ceiling crisis.

I don't think that's too much to ask.

The historian, it's your birthday, happy birthday, the historian.

Happy birthday to the historian!  I asked him to tell me ten things he wished for.  He said he wished 

1. that he understood more about economics;

2. that he were a painter; and/or

3. that he were a musician, and especially that he understood jazz;

4. that we will be able to travel in the future to at least some of the places we want to go;

5. that he would enjoy good health for the rest of his life;

6. that the Scotlands would move here in the not-too-distant future;

7. that he would remain productive as a historian;

8. that he were a swell pool player;

9. that he were a magician; and finally,

10. that none of our kids will have financial difficulties.

In light of these wishes, I wish the historian a year filled with learning, art, music and especially jazz, travel, excellent health, lots of family visits, new and exciting historical projects, pool-shooting, magic, and prosperity spread all around--to everyone, because prosperity is just better that way.  

In conclusion, please substitute "the historian" for "Lisa" in this song:

Notes from a separate universe.

Also known as the "Missionary Training Center":

"People were right--learning the tones in Chinese is hard, but not nearly as hard as their crazy grammar rules. You have to change your mind to think like a Chinese person. . . it is out of control, but I get better at it daily."

Also:

"I have gained 13 lbs. since being at the MTC, no big deal. Even with that gain I am still underweight. I just need to evenly spread my weight around magically. Those brownies were incredible! I only wish I didn't have to share, but I did because without charity I am nothing."

Ready.

Or not--I have piles of black skirts, black, white, and gray shirts, jeans, black tights, ready to pack . . . how boring can you pack? Sheesh. Next, I will add my two pairs of black boots. Gaaa. Maybe I'll paint my nails black and wear black lipstick.

New York City: look out. The Salt Lake Contingent is on the move. Wearing the least exceptionable clothing possible, unless another wardrobe concept (that's Wardrobe Concept®) presents itself. Maybe I'll do all the magic with scarves. And earrings.