This Blog Was Supposed to Be About Process and the Emergency of It All

The process has little to show for itself, for during the past week and a half:

#1 I flew to Kentucky to see my favorite bluegrass singer and visit relatives. An hour into the visit, I discovered my purse had been stolen from my rental car.
#1a I missed Carla Gover's concert.
#1b. I have a confession. Though I know Carla only as a fan these past 10 years, and not as a real-person-knowing person, when she announced through a fan distribution list email that she and her then life and music partner Mitch Barrett were splitting up, I felt a huge wave of relief. Something about his face structure on those two cd covers they shared said Ego-Maniac and Control Freak. Placed side by side next to her sharp nose and wide eyes, I was worried for her and I deep down sensed the match was all wrong. Is that crazy? Should I look into some sort of psychic or deep intuiting line of work?

#2 I was told by said relatives that Frankfort Kentucky, where I had originally planned to set my hilarious take on the post-modern crafting tourism industry, was actually geographically inappropriate, and that Berea, Kentucky was the state craft capitol. (Duh)

#3 I tape recorded my grandmother's stories of her experiences at an Appalachian settlement school, and subsequently discovered my voice recorder had been left in said relatives' rarely used 1983 stationwagon (He's called "Woody.*");

#4 I paid a very nice man named Brian Mattei (of Mattei Auto Towing) to tow my Honda Civic from Park n Fly at New Orleans Airport to the skilled experts at Premier Honda, and subsequently paid the after-hours receptionist $340 in cash (including quarters) to purchase a new Smartkey for my car (see #1)

#5 I cried. A lot. Not about the car. But my grandmother. Not because she's sweet, or because she's my grandmother. Not because she's particularly rooted to me in an emotional way. Not because she gave me the family silverware, because she did, and I don't know when I'll have plates, let alone matching china, or a specialized cloth to put said silverware to use. Not because I was upset that my other three cousins think it's stupid that I get the family silverware just because I'm the eldest girl and that's how they do it in Kentucky. I cried because at 94, she looks like my father did when he grew thin and ravaged by cancer at 54.

#6 I came down with a sinus illness but the hard working attendants at LSU Health Center snapped a swine flu mask on me faster than you can say SideReel denies me Season Two Episode Seven of True Blood, Why? and so now I know how wearing a Leper Face Mask feels.

#7 I did not actually cry about my grandmother, nor her eery resemblance to my departed father. I cried because my grandmother is an emotionless hermit, and I have a sneaking suspicion that I was staring at my dementia-laden, vitamin-popping, lock box-toting future. It's not just that she's a narcissist.

*Woody was also the name of a janitor who developed an unhealthy habit of lingering in my classroom after 8pm most evenings, back in a previous life when I was a middle school teacher and stayed in my classroom stapling things to bulletin boards after 8pm most evenings. His siren call (besides the gravelly sound of his trash bin-on-wheels growing closer and close to me) was a very small-voiced "I seeeeee yooooooooo." Ok, that's not the worst part. The worst part is, on my fourth year of dodging him in the hallways, and skittering away when he taunted "yoo hoo" from the faculty bathroom to the copy room, the evening of my 30th birthday (I'm not lying) he grabbed me and kissed me on the mouth, smashing his ragged stubble into my cheek.


Anyways so that's been the week. However, I did purchase a book called First Draft in 30 Days (well, that was a few weeks ago) but this week I intend to open it, and perhaps gain some tips on how to progress in my current craft emergency. The cover is very "down to business" because there is a photo of a large bent calendar on the days "29" and "30" which is the worst part of the month if you're supposed to finish something in 30 days. (Which I'm not, since I've taken a leave-of-absence from being a contributing member of society in order to pursue this here MFA degree, during which we have several lumps of 30 days to complete this so-called "novel") Also, the colors are orange and green. These colors are extremely "down to business." Stay tuned for reports on what Ms. Barker does with businessy book. Also, I will carry the book around with cover in full view when I am around MFA, PhD, and other academe types and report back on reactions to said businessy book.