seagulls' mother

owen and i called in sick today. and we were, kind of. not any less than the dozen or so students that were quarantined with colds or week six midterm overload. we've been sniffling, and coughing but mostly just needing some sea air. i turned in my application for a "re-appointment" at ucr and as much as i feel anxiety about my observation letter (my meeting with the director spent an awful lot of time talking about things like "directional preferences" and other things that aren't part of my pedagogical vocabulary)and whether or not i'll get "ranked" high enough part of me just doesn't care, half hopes i get cut out with chartruese photocopy paper in the budget overhaul. because i miss writing, and i miss, yes, my dissertation. i had a date night with briget and california the poet laureate and san clemente pier mist and it made me want to trade in our silver jeep commute on the 91 and 241 for a ride on the magic poetry bus.

anyhow, the sick day convinced me that owen is my poet laureate. and that days like today are why he's commissoned with the title. because when we arrived at aliso creek he asked: "mom, why are there so many seagulls at the beach?" and before i could think of an answer he jumped in with "oh, i know. because the beach is their mother." and we buried dinosaurs in the sand, found sea anenomes, and raced the waves.

tomorrow, i promise i'll grade those 1b essays. or not. . .