My spouse has often said that my Native American name should be Frets-for-Nothing. Every so often I have week-ends that remind me not to worry.
I got my contract from Finishing Line Books on Friday--hurrah! I remember when I first sent them the information needed for the contract, including my Social Security number. I sent it via e-mail. When the contract didn't come, I had one sleepless night where I was sure I had been scammed somehow. Even though the rational part of my brain reminded the drama queen part of my brain that setting up an e-mail and a website to so closely resemble the actual website of a small press to dupe poets was not something that crooks would likely do, I still couldn't fall asleep. So, I wrote them to make sure the e-mail had gone through, and they wrote back to say yes, and the contract would be along eventually.
And now, here it is. Now it is time to do the printing of photos, the final proofing of the manuscript draft, the copying onto CDs of everything. Hurrah.
Yesterday the home inspector came and the home inspection went very well. I don't know why I always expect those to go badly.
Actually, yes I do know why. Our first houses were repossessed rehab houses, which we picked up for very cheap, but which needed all sorts of repairs and renovations. I often wonder if I'd be a more relaxed person about home repairs and inspections if we hadn't had the experience with those houses. I have seen first hand what damage substandard/misinstalled plumbing can do. I know first hand why aluminum coated wiring was such a bad idea. I have seen wood rot in all its glory. I know all about rodents and reptiles and insects.
Whenever it's time for a home inspection, I always worry that the inspector will find some kind of disastrous something that will require thousands of dollars to fix. Sometimes, that happens. Happily, yesterday was not one of those times.
I may post later today too. I am headed to the Miami Book Fair to hear Susan Rich, January O'Neil, Kevin Pilkington and Mark Statman read. I know that at one reading, Susan Rich gave the audience violet scented chocolates, so I'm both hopeful for chocolate and poetry. But the poetry alone will be prize enough. I don't know the two male poets, but I love the work of Susan Rich and January O'Neil. And here they are, together, near the town where I live!
When we first moved here, I imagined that I would go to the Miami Book Fair every year. But of course, I haven't. It's a little ways down there, and my regular life has often intervened. But happily, this year, the poets I most want to see are reading on a Sunday. Hurrah again!
Now I must go to take the pumpkin bread out of the oven. Sure, it's 75 degrees right now and our high today will be 83 degrees or so. Not exactly the weather to inspire autumnal baking. But with Thanksgiving fast approaching, I'm done with waiting for the weather to cooperate. I'll eat warm pumpkin bread for breakfast and adjust the AC to make the house cooler, while waiting for it to be time to head down to Miami.
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