Leaving Bubbaville

Well the time has finally arrived. I made it through the winter and worked most of the summer. I have earned my summer in New England. I will be leaving Saturday for Boston! Yeah! Baby! I've worked like a refugee at work so that I can hit the ground running when I get back. I won't think about the place at all while I'm gone. There is so much to do, I draw a blank. Not like last year when I had everything planned to the minute and it all went perfectly (not a work I'm accustumed to using). I hope L's mood holds and we can take a day trip. Last year we went to Wells Beach in Maine. There's an artist colony in Gloucester I'd like to visit and take a ride up the North Shore. I'll also spend a couple days in Lowell and Saslem with (E). On Sunday I'll have a liesurely brunch with (J) and later meet some friends of hers at a party. Al Gore is at Harvard Books on Wednesday. But that's just the first few days and I have 15! Fifteen whole days. SWEET! beyond imagining to be away from here.

Right now, I feel a bit guilty about not going to Savannah and Zona Rosa over the week-end. I did call Rosemary. I had to take the car in for tires. Cars are like men. They always break down at the worse times; when you really need them. I'm reading bits and pieces of Rosemary's new book; Secrets of the Zona Rosa. I'm on page 59. I don't like being called a diva or a 'home girl'. I don't like labels and find those two to be condescending. The other problem I had was with the fact that there are factual errors about my life and my writing. (L) says I should just focus on Rosemary's complete belief in me. This is something I do not minimize one bit. I wanted to tell her walk a mile in my Black skin baby! She wouldn't and doesn't understand. It's like I said in the essay published in AIM..."The First Cut Is The Deepest" and the wounds don't go away...ever.
These days, I own my perspective 100% and I don't apologize for what I think or feel. I've spent a lifetime doing that.

Right now, I'm working on what could become a book. After all this time, a book. dare I imagine!
I'm so used to taking the lazy route and settling for smart ass essays or short stories. The piece began as an essay and morphed into a life story (memoir) ...or at least the beginnings and I think I can work it....We shall see