Mothers day and I am about to make pancakes and sausage with my 6 year old for his mother, my wife. I’ve put him off until the coffee is ready and I’ve had some; I am checking the overnight delivery of mail while waiting for the percolation. almost almost almost. My neck stretches and pops in near exhaustion at the wait but settles with relief.
coffee…
This morning I have received an offer from a S. African publisher to publish my poetry. I know nothing about them and while I research I am guardedly hopeful at this prospect.
But this is a tangent, and I am avoiding making pancakes this morning at least until I am awake.
Today at Noon PST the 48 hour magazine is out. I’ll connect up with a link around then. I somehow don’t believe I have made it but this is okay. all mornings should start with good news/bad news then pancakes with sausage with some coffee thrown in there for balance, my balance, meaning I don’t think I can stand long without it.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 