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I’d set a goal for myself a week or so ago that I would write once a day for a week straight. That started and I continued a streak for one day. And then things happened and continue to happen. It’s a good kind of “things happen,” in which office(s) are aflutter. Packages of science toys, complete with tubing, wheels, test tubes, and a bicycle wheel in one office; while in the other office stacks and stacks of books sit on my desk, a temporary castle wall before they get sent out to faculty across campus. But the main afluttering is the conference, the name badges, the poet, the catering. In 10 minutes I hit the road for the airport. There will be stories to tell, and I’m almost too excited to stay inside myself.

In the midst of all this, I’ve started pieces of writing, and they all lie here in a drafts folder waiting to be picked up. I have this fear that they’ll gather dust, lose luster, but some of them start from images that are too vivid (I hope) to let go. And they each have a working title:

  • joy
  • love
  • teachers
  • purpose
  • I like beer
  • Bozo the transgendered clown

I’m not sure if I can bear to ever finish that last one, frankly. The others include imagery of a child crossing a busy street for school, a recounting of a concert, final vindication that the Ewok Song really was sung by my 7th grade choir, and many other adventures. And there’s also a tribute to beer. For now, these (along with others farther down the list) will have to wait, and I suspect they’ll have to fight for attention as more stories and lessons creep into this waiting room.

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