A kid'll eat ivy, too

I get to see baby goats!

Actually, I get to see baby goats almost every day now, because I drive by a pasture full of goats, and the younglings are bounding around the hillside. But in a few weeks, Scottie and I are going to a working dairy farm to visit the source of (goats' milk yogurt) production.

You couldn't pet baby goats at a soybean farm!

a new issue will be coming soon

Well, I finally started working on the next issue of There. I'm a bit behind schedule, and it will be a smaller issue -- a mini-issue, perhaps -- but I just have to get it done so I can get on to all the other things I should be working on.

I've been thinking about including some of my own poetry this issue. I've got this longish poem, "lands_cape," that I haven't wanted to send out to other journals; I haven't really trusted anyone else to present it as I want it to be presented. It's 20 quatrains, and I'd want it to be spaced out with just a few stanzas to a page. So if I publish it myself, I get it to look just how I want it. But if I publish it myself, am I preventing it from getting a wider audience?

And is it wrong for me to put my own poetry on my own website? Up to this point, I've only run essay-type work on the site, as I figure that helps to guide its editorial mission. But poetry? Maybe it would be inappropriate.

Speed traps and the kindness of strangers

One of my freelance editing gigs is for a company in San Ramon, and I've been going out to the office pretty regularly. I've been taking Crow Canyon Road as a shortcut through the hills from Castro Valley to San Ramon.

It's a beautiful drive through a little slice of ranchland in the middle of the Bay Area, and lately Crow Canyon has been even more spectacularly beautiful. The slopes, with grazing cattle, sheep, horses, are green, like golf course green, so green it looks fake to my native eyes. As soon as the rains stop, it will all turn brittle-yellow and then crisp to gray-brown in the summer heat. But now it is green green green, and the skies are blue blue blue, and the road winds delightfully through the canyon beside Crow Creek.

If I were the only car on the road, it would be perfect. Unfortunately, that's not the case. Either I'm stuck behind a very slow driver, or a pushy driver is right behind me, or, usually, both at the same time. You shouldn't be braking for every slight curve in the road -- that's what downshifting is for -- and you certainly shouldn't be braking while going UPHILL! And I hate the cars that aggressively pass me on the city streets of Castro Valley (or San Ramon) and then immediately slow down once the road begins to wind and bend.

My favorite drivers, though, are the ones that stick it to the man by warning oncoming cars of a lurking highway patrolman. About halfway through the canyon, the valley flattens out, widening enough for the road to have an extra passing lane in each direction. And lately, the CHP has been staking out the area in the hope of catching speedy passing cars. I've learned to watch for flashing headlights as I approach the passing zone and adjust my speed accordingly.

If I have to drive out to an office, I'm glad I get to take a drive I actually enjoy.

Perfect pairing

I've been at a loss for words the last couple days, unable to describe what was one of the most amazing evenings of my life: a five-course dinner, with wine pairing, at restaurant Gary Danko. I can say I had the lobster risotto, pan-seared sea scallops, duck with rhubarb compote, cheese tasting, and chocolate souffle, but I really don't think the description does any justice to the meal. And of course, the evening was about more than just the food, but the paired wines, the attentive service, and the excellent conversation with three of my favorite people.

Art for Autism

Yesterday I went with Nissa to look at the gallery space she's found to do her Art for Autism benefit/event. It's in a somewhat sketchy-looking neighborhood in West Oakland, so, naturally, there's a giant construction site across the street where they're putting in luxury condos.

I've agreed to edit the anthology and try and get some writers/poets to perform at the event. I think my official title should be Poet Wrangler. I've gotten a lot of interest, now I just have to firm up the date, get the submissions, design and edit the book, get it printed, and have the performers show up at the event -- scheduled for the end of April.

Post-panel wrap-up

I'm not sure whether I can say the panel I sat on was a success or not, as in did anyone in the audience take away something beneficial from my experiences (perhaps Scottie can better say whether it was successful).

I can say I forgot to mention a few of the things I'm working on: Nissa's "Art for Autism" benefit, for which I'm performing, wrangling other performers, and editing the book of work from the event; the book reviews I've been doing for the Quarterly; the projects I'm writing, Don't Panic and Pythia Says.

It was a very different dynamic from the one I expected — I thought I'd know a lot more of the people in the audience, and that it would be more of a conversation. As it was I felt like I was supposed to be some Expert, dispensing wisdom from on high. And since I already felt like a bit of a fraud (in that I am no expert), it just added to my sense that the audience wasn't really going to take home all that much of value.

I guess because I look more successful than I am

Is what I said to my mother when she asked me why I was chosen to sit on a panel at Mills' Professional Survival Weekend today. I have the coveted last panel of the afternoon, which means what audience is left will be mostly napping.

Or maybe it's because of this and this and this.

What I do know is that I'll be the only one on my panel with cramps.