Another Good Day

 
On Friday morning we walked across the river (on a bridge, silly) and then down to the beach to walk along the lake on the sand.  It was sunny and windy but pretty cold.  We survived, thrived even, although I'm paying the price for sloughing off walking most of the winter.  My thighs and hips were burning and by suppertime I was limping.  No, we didn't walk all that time.  We split up after breakfast to work on a manuscript (me) or nap (sick Lala), then we had lunch at the Weather Center Cafe.  After lunch we met my nephew, CA, at the theater to see The Hunger Games.  It was good, very close to the book.  After that we drove arouind Sheboygan a bit so Lala could see the town some, then we split up agreeing to meet to walk to supper later.  We went up the boardwalk to Brisco County for a good old American burger.  I had bacon, cheese and BBQ sauce, lettuce and tomato on mine.  They came with seasoned fries and were only $7.95, pretty reasonable for supper these days.  Around 7:30 we piled in Lala's car and drove over to the beach (because by then I was really gimping) to watch the full moon rise.  All of a sudden it just popped over the horizon and it fairly raced up into the sky.  It amazed us that there was no moonglow to herald its arrival over the lip of the Earth (I totally think that the name of our home planet deserves a capital letter, season names too, for that matter).  I got a couple of good pictures, most of them were blurry orange blobs, and I don't know how to tell the camera how not to gather so much light.  Maybe I should read the manual.  (Ya think???)  Back to the room to soak in a hot tub (made my leg feel better for a while and it warmed me up after sitting outside for half an hour or so) and then to bed--once I uploaded another Dresden Files novel to my iPod and dealt with the photos I'd taken, that is.

April 6--NaPoWriMo: write a poem about an animal

Last Impression

The idea of a fish--
only the tail, one gill
and a few bones
left 

to sink into sand
hard-packed by high tides,
just down the beach
 
from the pompon of
dead gull in the dune
by the path.
~~~~~
Let's see... what other words made it into my tiny notebook...
~~~~~
Red-brown death
perched in winter-bare tree
He sees you, mousie.
~~~~~
All voles are named Raoul.
~~~~~

I've been doing a little surfing of the other sites signed up for NaPoWriMo and I'm totally not serious enough for this crowd.  Mine's all first-drafty with a bit of humor in it and pretty straightforward, not all symbolic and dark.  See?  I'm totally not a poet. No, that's not right, Billy Collins and Ted Kooser both write about everyday stuff and they don't turn themselves inside out to create symbols.  Okay, I made myself feel better.  Whew.  Today I'm going to keep reading through my manuscript, red pen and Post-Its in hand, looking for gaps where new scenes need to be and where I need to fix what's there.  I'm enjoying it.  Look at me, I can write!


--Barbara