Tuesday, March 8, 2016


I woke up this morning and realized I am never going to achieve work-life balance. I'm going to have to put up with just doing the best I can, whatever it is, today and tomorrow and the next day, and so on. It sounds very philosophical, especially given that I haven't had all that much coffee yet today, but really I think it's just my brain's way of excusing the number of unfinished projects around the house, the piles of laundry, the suitcase I haven't unpacked from Florida and the fact that I have to be on a plane at 6 tomorrow morning.

I'm going to New York to accept the Josette Frank award for fiction from the Bank Street College of Education. I'm completely fangirling over this, because it means I get to hang out with the other award winners, Marilyn Nelson (poetry, for My Seneca Village) and Carole Boston Weatherford (nonfiction, for Voice of Freedom: Fannie Lou Hamer, Spirit of the Civil Rights Movement). I love their work. I can't wait to meet them.

I have to give a short speech. I woke up in the middle of the night and composed a brilliant speech, witty and just the right length, but can't remember it. Doesn't matter. I'm sure I'll come up with something to say.

While I was gone, my husband cleaned his closet, organized a big chunk of the basement storage room, researched the probable college schedules of our children for next year and put them onto the calendar (yes, we already have a 2017 calendar hanging on the inside of our pantry door--one door has 2016, the other 2017), and planned a boffo summer vacation for July. I'm not saying I should be gone more often, but I will say he uses my absence to good effect. Makes me wonder what he'll accomplish for the next few days.

Meanwhile, I'll be back at the hotel that loans companion goldfish. I hope to be reunited with Henry.