Thursday, April 20, 2006

Whither art thou?

The kitchen is doneish. It looks very nice. So nice I think it's too nice for us. We had better move before we ruin it. We've already stained the granite. I'm sure the internets will provide a stain-removal system that doesn't remove the entire igneous rock.

I have also successfully entertained while in town: sister P and boyfriend Charlie, Friend Misty and boyfried John (who we once called John Crack. He's stayed at my house often enough that I can call him a friend too) and my mom and dad's old friend Lori Friedman who has three boys--Chason, Asher & Daden. Her husband, who I met at dinner, ran the show. He'd say, tell me what you want, I'll go order it and yell, how many more pitchers of beer. Sometimes, especially in groups of 16, I like that sort of take-charge guy.

I missed K.C.'s birthday party, many many deadlines and sleep.

I also neglected to list my Friday Stupids list. Twice!
The capper was getting a phone call from my nonfiction editor asking me if I was coming to the lunch I had organized. I had said when I arranged the meeting, oh, I like to be places early. I'll be there at 11:55. I showed up at quarter to one (edited from my earlier mistype that said "noon").

Brilliant. On so many levels.

I've also lost my debit card, my car keys, my school keys, my cap & gown receipt and Zoe's favorite toys.
And yet, barring any unforeseen slights and misgivings, they still might give me my PhD.

So, decisions.

At this juncture--and the road must be chosen quickly--I still have to decide if we're renting or selling our house, having movers move us or stuffing our own stuff into a truck, taking these hideous hutches, buying a house in East or downtown G.R. and whether Egg will work or stay home with Zo.

And, to be done in the next few weeks: grade 25 proposals, contract for, receive files from author and layout Issue 62 of QW, write rountable review with E Burger and Paul K and submit book(s) to last of the season contests.

Speaking of contests, my poetry manuscript/dissertation "Comeuppance" was one of 6 finalists, along with my friend Mike White's book "Vegetable Love" for a pretty big poetry contest. Another decision: Change my title? Vegetable Love, now that's a good title.


Trista said...

we're faced with some of these decisions, too, though we're not moving nearly as soon as you are. Still, rent or sell? pay or pack? Are you planning on moving back here? If you're not planning on moving back within the next couple of years then I would sell the house. You never know what kind of renters you'll get and if the house will be in good shape to sell if you do decide to sell later. And, honestly, I'd sell and use the money you get to pay movers. Or at least drivers. That way you can relax and spend your final days here enjoying your friends instead of trying to convince them that they want to help you load up a big truck...

And I, of course, am Most Wise, and so you should definitely take all my Advice. You could name your book "Vegetable Comeuppance" and have the best of both worlds. It makes me think of Bunnicula and all the little zombi vegetables wandering around trying to show people who's boss...

Nik said...

Ah Trista, you are Most Wise. I agree with all you say. Especially about not making the friends load the truck and the part about Vegetable Comeuppance--though I'm pretty sure that will be a Wallace and Gromit movie soon.

val said...

I have my own stupid friday stuff. I think you should sell it. It kills me to say that. But, it's a great time to sell here and it would be great if you and egg could spend time with zoe while she's a little wee bit. They get big so fast!

Dr. Write said...

Let me be the dissenting voice: I think you should keep the house. Because? I want you to move back. I'm selfish. I never pretended to be anything else. (imagine sounds of uncontrolled sobbing here)