Last night was girls night out at the new pub in my neighborhood. With lots of joy and giggling we played a rather long game of darts (since none of us were even amateur experts). The joint is called the Westville Pub and it's a lovely clean non-smoking little bar with real dart boards and a pool table. In addition, there's a cool couch sitting area in the front window, an area with diner style booths, and a killer jukebox. On tap are a variety of microbrews and i saw lots of yummy looking food being served. To top it off...it's only a medium walk or a very short drive from my house. I felt like a little piece of Capitol Hill finally followed me here from Seattle. It's not nearly as vacuous as the Elysian Pub that was around the corner from my apartment in Seattle, but there's something similar about the feel. They're having their first live music there tonight, and even if i don't make it for that i can see myself with journal and pen in hand heading down there again to have some food, write a bit, and maybe chat with someone new.~w

I've been bitten with the spring bug and feel like dancing on rooftops rather than sitting at a computer. At one point yesterday the impish side of me thought it would be a good idea to take the piles of paper on my desk and start tossing them in the air. My meticulous side, who made the piles, wouldn't let me do it, but it did seem like a good idea. I couldn't find anything yesterday anyway, and throwing paper in the air would have been a fun diversion from running in circles. Speaking of which...i'm late to go file more paper....~w

After going to get buff at the gym and stuffing our faces with food from Salsa's, Kim and I visited Asheville's very own Poetry Slam. The people are very nice. Already it is a little family that has started to develop and that is a very good thing. However, when 11pm rolled around and the feature was just finishing and the slam hadn't started yet, we realized that we just weren't going to make it through the evening. It could be that we both realized that we'd been involved with slams for about 9 years now and it just doesn't have the sparkle it used to have. Or, it could be that we were tired from working out. Or, maybe we're just becoming old farts. In any case we made our goodbyes and wished everyone well and were back to my house and probably asleep before it was over.

I'm very happy that the poetry is happening here, but i'm also glad that it's someone else's baby to take care of now. It's nice just to pop in and out instead of feeling like i'm obligated to endure something that the rest of the crowd can enjoy without me.~w

The fabulous Kim has come to visit and i was too busy chatting this morning to post properly.

I will say that last night's drive to Spartanburg for a library show when smoothly and the Middle School students from McCracken rock! Today i plan to watch other people perform poetry at the local poetry slam!~w

I want to stay in bed...but i have to go to work. Actually, i suppose i don't have to, they might not miss me...but then i might not have a job. It would be nice if they did appreciate me enough to miss me though.~w

The weather outside was lovely and warm. I spent the day inside working myself into a tizzy. I'm now headachey and tired and feeling really unmotivated to blog. I think i need a good night's sleep and will try again in the morning...~w

When i was in high school i used to get National Geographic magazine. The photos are always amazing, but there are some that stick with you longer than others. Imagine my surprise when i unwrapped the second issue of my new subscription to the magazine to see a familiar face. It's a picture of "that girl" with the startling green eyes. Actually, the photo of "that girl" is held by a figure in a purple burqua. Inside the magazine you have the full size photo next to a new photo of that same girl now 17 years older. Without reading a word of the article i started to cry. I knew that she couldn't be that far from my own age, but her face tells a story of a much harder life than i could ever imagine. Each day i've come back to the magazine, trying to get a little more information before the tears well up in my eyes. In a land without birth certificates even she is unsure of her own age, but she's certainly no older than me. Our lives couldn't be more different though. Rather than try to retell it, i'll direct you to the story on the National Geographic's website where you can see some of the photos for yourself.~w

Somedays you just have to sit down and do paperwork. There were bills to be paid waiting for me when i got home and it just seemed to take all afternoon to get it sorted out. Granted i stopped in the middle to chat with friends who called. I suppose that loading wood into a truck to be hauled away to become part of a friend's shed and fixing the gutters also delayed the process. It's done though. The paperwork is done! Now i can finally enjoy what is left of my Sunday. Oh, wait...i've been gone all week. That means i have no groceries and no food to take for lunch tomorrow. I suppose i should go to the store. Why is it that some days it seems like just taking care of the business of living this American life is a job in itself?~w

Laundry is done, the rental car is returned and i got to hang out with friends a bit this evening. We went to see Southern Culture on the Skids. I think i would have enjoyed it more if i wasn't exhausted by the 2nd song. Now i need more sleep.~w