Good days are very, very good.

The happy counterpoint of a few posts back... sweet Aidan.
The happy counterpoint to a few posts back... sweet Aidan.

And a sweet week it is! Not only are my mum and sister visiting, and not only did I bake a splendiferous second cake today, but great poetry news abounds:

  • I’m one of the lucky recipients of a 2008 Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Prize! This is a wonderfully generous fund, and I’m in great company — other winners this year include Rhett Iseman Trull (editor of Cave Wall, see below), Brian Brodeur, Ann Hudson, and Alison Pelegrin.
  • Existere has accepted a poem for their spring issue, hooray!
  • You can now get your subscriptions to Cave Wall through their website! I mention this now because not only is it a great journal, but I have 2 poems in the Winter/Spring 2009 issue, coming soon.

“Sleep” is still on my list of Unfulfilled Dreams, but you won’t hear me complaining…

Chocolate Cake, Take 2
Chocolate Cake, Take 2

Good Times.

My little Mr. Magoo.
My little Mr. Magoo.

Emma commented below something to the effect that she doesn’t know how I do it all.  And my reply is, I don’t.  The lion’s share of my time right now is spent taking care of Aidan and Vincent.  I’ve taken notes for poems, actually read some books of poems, but I haven’t even picked up the novel I began reading while I was in the hospital.  I try to keep the apartment neat, for my own sanity, but actual cleaning, well, housekeeping was never my strong suit.  I don’t answer the phone — that’s what voicemail is for.  It’s frigidly cold, so we hardly go out but for necessities.  Simply put, if there’s something you tend to do on a daily basis, I probably don’t.

And all that is just fine, exactly as it should be, because these early baby days are fleeting, and Vincent is growing by leaps and bounds, and all too soon these boys who give me barely a second’s rest won’t want me around, will roll their eyes at me and mutter, “Whatever.”  I may be bleary-eyed and irritable, but that doesn’t keep me from smothering those little heads with kisses while I can.

In preparation for the poetry-writing-drought that was inevitable after Aidan’s birth, I sent out many submissions, or what I consider many, a few months ago.  If I’m not writing, I at least want a bunch of my poems out there!  Last week was particularly trying on the home front, but I’m happy to say that  poetry-wise I’ve had a string of good luck.  So I’m not complaining.  But more on that later.