Monday, October 12, 2009

When it gets cold, I am loathe to turn on the heat. I pile on the blankets, wear a coat in the house and bake. As a kid, my brother and I had bedrooms on the third floor, really a converted attic with little insulation. We froze up there. Back before the days of flannel sheets, the sheets felt like ice. And my mother would make the beds so tight, you couldn't move your legs. She would turn down the thermostat to 55 at night too. In the summer, the opposite problem, we roasted. Ah, the East Coast weather. Mom the inquisitor.

Ok, 6 babies since last Wednesday. Hurrah. All safe and sound. I'm going swimming now even though I've had about 8 hours of sleep in the last 4 days. It's Ok. The pool is warm. Next week the writers meet. And I have nothing to bring. Nothing whatsoever. Maybe I'll bring a James Wright poem and pass it off as my own. Maybe no one will notice.


Laura Gamache said...

don't just photocopy a page from a book and you might pass. You'll write something I bet! SWIMMING! In Klamath Falls there's a geothermally heated public outdoor pool - I'm going dang it!

beth coyote said...

Oh yeah, swim for me.