As I mentioned before, Warren Wilson was kind enough to save me a spot for the winter term since they'd filled up the summer by the time I sent my application in. Well, someone decided to postpone their start date and left a spot for yours truly. So, I'm starting July 2. I'm pretty geeked about starting but already have two assignments. First, I have to chose one among some of the different workshops, and of the choices that best fit my program, I'm only familiar with the work being discussed in one. Also, I have to come prepared to discuss two pieces of my own work, but only one is near finished. So, much to do by April 22. 

 Kai Ryssdal of NPR's Marketplace recently had a story about how pet stores are doing just fine in the financial downturn. Well, the misus and I have graduated from office plants, to a tortoise. It's all leading up to a grandkid for parents, in-laws and pesky friends--kidding. So, yeah, a tortoise, a bred-in-captivity Marginated Tortoise to be precise.  I was about to complain about how expensive the tortoise, terrarium, "bedding", lights (two of them), heating pads, water dish, food dish, sand, hay, and calcium are, until I saw how much a flippin' dog costs. All of the items mentioned above cost less than half whatever ugly mutt they were selling at the pet store. Then you have to get shots, collars, ID tags, loads o' food, leash, toys, etc. It's kinda' crazy, but then anything but a beta fish in a $2 bowl seems pretty nuts. 

Since my nephew just turned 6 mo. old, I gave his parents a free photo shoot. Well, who am I kidding, I love photographing the little dude. Anyhow, behold the high commander who has tak usurped every sphere of family life and can pull us away from anything by merely saying WAAAA, in the right tone. So, we pay tribute to the little man who rules with an iron fist. Eating,  sleeping, drinking, getting pampered and being the center of attention. Now that's a life. 

 

I've watched two of my dream typewriters, Groma Kolibri,  ascend to the heights of $150 and well beyond my reach in only the past few days. Meanwhile, my Aztec 700 is in for repair with some undiagnosed malady that stumped the local typewriter doctor. Thankfully, UPS is paying the bill, since it was in their hands that it got messed up. 

  I've already had the chocolaty, coffee, and oats goodness in a bourbon barrel that is the Kentucky Breakfast Stout. I've tried the Orange Blossom Cream Ale, which I'll review soon, though I linked to beer advocate for your reading pleasure. And I tried some local microbrews with mixed results. More when I get back.

Speaking of getting back, I'm going back to Guatemala this weekend (10 months since my last visit), to hand over a film project to my friend Daniel G. who is a better film director than I'll ever be. I produced a short narrative film that he wrote and directed a couple years ago, so now I invited him to my turf. So down we'll go to work with some of the most dangerous men in some of the most dangerous neighborhoods and institutions of that country. I'll spare the gory details until I return. Until my return, keep an eye out for my tweets (look right, I have a widget). I'll sneak them if I can.  

I spent Sunday at my parents house, with the rest of the family, and at around 6:30 p.m., while we were watching a movie, I missed a surprising call that led to a more surprising bit of news. I got home well past 10:00 p.m. and saw "new message" shinning on my cellphone screen. When I saw the number of the caller, I realized that it was an area code from which I've never received a call before. My heart skipped a beat. I dialed my inbox and there were three messages. A "got-there-safely" message from the misus, a coworker asking for a favor, and then a new voice. A message riddled with excruciating pauses, um's, and errs' framing a baritone-tenor timbre and delaying the meat in the message. "...We'd like to offer you...um...a...uh, place in admission at the Warren Wilson Writer's Workshop."

  It was all I could do to contain an audible cheer, though I pumped my fist in the solitude of my bedroom. Then I calmly walked downstairs, put the phone on speaker and played it. She ran in place and threw her arms around me. I called the family to let them know and, since it was too late to call Warren Wilson back, we just poured a Kentucky Breakfast Stout into a snifter and shared a beer and a blessing on the living room sofa. 

  This morning I called the faculty member back and received something I did not expect. Yes, I'm in, accepted into the program. But, somewhere between my application being turned in literally at the last minute, and an extraordinarily large applicant pool, the positions they wanted to offer are more than the positions they have available. So, I've been accepted, to the January 2010 term. Apparently, they liked one of the stories in my application package enough to hold a spot for me next term even though I all but missed the summer term. If, however, someone opts out or differs their application, I'd be starting July 2, 2009. So, while I'm waiting for Boston and Bennington, I have the security of an MFA in my future...Lord willing.