My body sure wanted to stay in bed. But, busy day ahead. House quiet. Strangely echoing; being emptied, waiting for transformation. And cold. It’s quite cold this morning. First, I sat int he quiet with coffee feeling very happy to be suddenly writing a new draft of a poem. Where did that come from? And then, I have to go out to get my walk in. And I’m very cold and don’t want to be outdoors. This never happens. My hands are freezing. I’m not warm enough. I’m not enjoying myself. I go back for gloves. Helps a little. I just have to get heading into the city. I’m so out of practice, this driving to events. Once I am parked on Comm Ave, walking in the sunshine down sunny Beacon Street, all prepared and on time, I cheer up. The volunteers are lovely, the building is very nice, and there are lots of people there who care about writing and poetry. I am able to sit for awhile in readings by Gail Mazur and Enzo Silon Surin. Both are quite moving. And in my own workshop, I have a lovely group, they write spectacular drafts from their photos. After it’s over, I realize people have been unable to get in, running late, and I chat with them. One writer tells me how appreciative he was of the workshop. Says he always comes to my workshops whenever he can. A fan. Well, that was worth the drive! It was an exceptional event, and was honored to lead a session. Home to the changing house; a quick change for me, and a swim, and off to dinner with friends for my birthday. An exceptional day. And my cake, covered in lit candles, and a very special one in my arms who helps me make a wish and blow them out.