quotidian

Thirty-one (ha! I just got the 2nd meaning of her blog title--she IS 31.) said that I should post the essay I was writing and see how it differs from sending it out and publishing it in a magazine. I do wonder how my pontifications change depending on the medium it's presented in. A blog post is not an essay yet I see a lot of long blogs that are full of good writing and are topic-specific enough that they verge on becoming art. I wonder, as I traipse through the blogs of some many people, if they're all actually writers too, publishing in the land of lit mags, commercial mags, and in books that I would read if I wasn't reading blogs.
Hm. Perhaps Dr. Write and I can have a panel at AWP.
Other trouble: Still kitchening. I'm sitting here hoping that Zoe will sleep through the airgun that's stapling the trim to the walls. Why are we home? Because there's no where else to go. My mom is sick and Erik's parents live so far in the mountains that it takes a week of grocery shopping to go up there. Where else can a mom and her baby go for ALL day? 31's? No, the nanny drives me mad. Though 31 does have wireless DSL.....
Also: Too much wine this March. With AWP, job offers, birthdays, PhD defenses, and going out to dinner every single night, there's been a few mornings of deep headache and metal jaw. I'm hoping April is less celebratory.
Cats. Too many of them. Is it too late to donate them to science? I'm afraid, after Zoe's RSV, that she may be prone to asthma. 4 cats, a dog, and a house under construction (please don't spew lead paint, please), will not be good.
And this is how my blog differs ever so slightly from my essays: On the blog, I stick to one topic never. On my essays, I at least try one topic. For at least a page.