Do you ever want to run away? I do. Right now. I want to pack up and head out. As usual, I'm overwhelmed and desperately trying to find some semblance of balance. I'm not so good at that. As it stands, I'm really thrilled that I managed to wash the dishes tonight *and*rearrange the stacks of papers I need to grade that were scattered across the table. That's the highlight of my day...until I wash my hair. Where would you go? My dream escape takes me to just about anywhere I don't know the language. I think it's comical that someone who loves communicating in any form would want to run away to a place where there would be no communicating. Then again, the only reason I ever want to run away is to find some solace in my solitude. I know that I recharge best when I'm alone. One of the things I've discovered about the "people" in the book I'm (will be when I get a free moment) working on is that they are all running from something. They've

I bought a miniature greenhouse yesterday. It's basically just an egg crate with a plastic cover, but I am so excited about the possibilities it presents. I've dreamed for a long, long time about growing my own food, partially because I'm paranoid about pesticides and mostly because I resent buying produce from other countries when I live around a more than 500 acre farm. I already have two tomato plants growing. They are both three feet tall. Last night, I created a chart in my journal that outlines the growing season. I then planted eggplant, corn, radishes, beans, cucumbers, artichokes, and pumpkins in my greenhouse. I will start some lettuce, broccoli, and spinach next and plan to keep them inside since the temperature will most likely not dip below 45 from now until December. My plans eventually include pomegranate, avocado, mango, and citrus trees. I keep threatening to set up a stand on the side of the road this summer. Does that mean I could call myself a farmer?

I think I finally have a story ready to come out. Loss seems to be the big theme for me lately. Who am I kiddng? Loss is the theme of my life. And if you're honest, it's probably a major theme for yours. Isn't that why we fear change as much as we do? The story I'm working on is centered around 6 people (or pairs of people) whose lives intersect in a completely benign way. In my head it's sort of like Pulp Fiction meets Exile and the Kingdom. So far, I've met 4 of the people and heard about their losses: dreams, hopes, plans, identity. The funny part of writing is the way you see the characters and listen to their stories. That's where I am right now...walking around the place where these people are connected and listening to what they have to say. (For some reason, I think they're in Mexico.) I hope I do them justice. I enjoy listening to stories, especially when I don't feel the need to react and respond. Soaking up another person's words is a

Alan and I went out this afternoon to do a little shoe shopping. He desperately needed new shoes, and I couldn't wait to introduce him to my favorite shoe accessory--overpriced inserts! Sports Authority had a huge clearance sale on shoes, and we were greeted by four tables of shoes for the bargain price of $29.97. He immediately grabbed three pairs, tried them on, and in less than ten minutes selected a pair. As a comparison, it takes me more than ten minutes to decide which pairs to try on. After we picked up some inserts, we paused briefly to look at some shoes on the wall. One of the employees asked if we needed help, and we assured him we didn't. (After all, we had everything we came in to get.) As we turned to walk toward the register he stopped us and told us that he was required to put some stickers on our merchandise or he would get in trouble. Neither of one us fell off the turnip truck yesterday, and we both agreed that the stickers must be just a way for him to get c

I've been meaning to share some of these for a few weeks now. Here's part of why I like what I do. These responses are from some of my students' papers. Part of a character analysis essay about a girl who prefers to run in a race instead of dress in frilly white dresses to dance around a maypole on May Day: "She don't understand why her mother wants her to be a pole dancer." The opening sentence of a paragraph about why someone hates to do laundry: "Do you like touching people's underwears?" Written at the top of a student's paper for English class: "Teacher: Ms. P Subject: Chinese" The opening line of a frame poem based on Langston Hughes' "Dream Deferred": "What happens to my shit? (supposed to be "shirt") Does it get lost?"

I ran my first 5K race yesterday. It was the Walk for Paws benefit for the Naples Humane Society. The air was a delightful 40 degrees with a crisp breeze. The native Floridian in me was completely comfortable in a long sleeve shirt and sweatpants. The control freak in me was extremely anxious about the details of the race, and my brain raced through ideas like finding the starting line and hoping I wouldn't be the last one to cross the finish line. I didn't know if other people would bring their iPods, so I left mine in the car. I worried over where to place my number on my shirt and whether or not I would look like a complete dork when I ran. The whole experience was a blast. We all started with a light jog, but it wasn't long before I fell behind my friends. They ran the entire course. Since I've only been training for two weeks, I did my run/walk alternation. I was in HEAVEN! For a little more than three miles, I let my mind wander and thoughts run wild with every st