. . . and muggy. My cats have melted on the tile floor. I don't know how they managed to spread themselves so flat. I feel a bit guilty, not running the a/c, but the birds hate it. They love the humidity and the heat. Poor kits.
Saw Waitress last night. I really liked it, and was most impressed by Keri Russell more so than the story. It is incredibly predictable, but what keeps it from being just another movie is the incredible performances. Although I personally felt Andy Griffith could have been a bit more curmudgeonly. But whatever.
Finished reading Eudora Welty's One Writer's Beginnings. It was not what I expected, but once I got into it, I fell for her rhythms and incredibly keen eye. She doesn't talk about writing overtly, or even how she got started. It is very subtle, but powerful. Onto William Carlos Williams next.
I still have not ordered my books for Fall. I suppose I should if I want them on time. I have a list of things that still haven't been done, but the list of things I have done that didn't need to be done continues to grow. Irony.
Speaking of which, I have scrapped all the pages of the book I had thus far. There was no irony. I am not going to write another 'sad' and 'depressing' but ultimately 'lesson learned' and 'enlightening' book. What fun is that?
Sending out poetry. Will let you know of success. You can count on the rejection!
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