Uff-da!

I survived Day 3 of Marshall Festival. Lessons learned included, "It's never safe to snub another poet," and "Never eat pancakes at a Nebraska truckstop at 4 a.m." -- being that this last piece comes from a piece called "Bad Buttermilk" I'll make sure I remember it, if or when I wind up at a Nebraska truck stop.

Between 3 readings and a world premeire play I managed two new articles, shared a writing prompt, and recycled an old buried story from one site to another. And now, it's all over but the blogging.

Tomorrow morning is brunch and farewells, the long road trip back to the city. Outside the window, I hear echos from the stadium -- the Homecoming game. A reminder that the whole world of my college is not the literary fare, even if it is for me. The campus, the town, the dorms have all changed, and haven't. The old friends seem only slightly modified by the thin cloak of time.

Next Festival is on the wishlist for 2012. It was five years since the last one. Eight years since the one before-- which I missed because my kids were in school and there was no sitter.

This time, I managed to keep book purchasing under control-- escaping with 2 collections of poetry, although I wanted more. And I managed to leave my own novel, fueled so much by the rural breath of this place in the hands of someone familiar.

I am ready to call it a day. Tuck myself in, listen to the cheers, and the muffled voice of the announcer until I drift away.