Writers' Camp

If I have any followers of this blog left, you might be wondering just where in the hell I have been. Sorry. It's been a difficult two weeks, and by difficult I mean heavy-lifting, annoying illness, preparing for two weeks out of town, dressing up like Shakespeare difficult.

The garage sale would have been a complete bust if it weren't for this one young woman and her new house. She took the Nortons' bed, the Turners' big-ass chair, our neighbors' armoire, futon and grill, and our three-piece set of cabinets. I also got rid of all the Bad Epitaph chairs and other odd set pieces that had accumulated in my basement and sat there for seven years. (And yes, I pocketed the money, call it storage fees.) Other than that virtually no one showed up.

And where the hell were you, anyway?

So after schlepping tables and chairs up and down three flights (and even down the street) with only the big, strong arms of David Hansen to help me, I was a little whipped. Then came the cough and the cold (which I still have) three tons of laundry and generally trying to predict what we may or may not need here in Vermont.

Yes, I am in Vermont. Plainfield, Vermont, home of Goddard College. It's funny, the way they use the word "college" because it's really a summer camp for total geeks over the age of thirty-five.

Toni is persuing her MFA in creative writing, and I am Mr. Mom for ten days, which is more than fair. At the moment it is raining like hell, which is has done since the middle of the night last night, and will continue to do for the rest of the time we are here.

Which is where? Toni was right, Plainfield is like Friendship, ME, only without the ocean. Which means, there's just a lot of trees here. Trees and rain. And unshaven men in their forties in shorts and Tivas who make me feel good about my sex appeal. And women who are predisposed not to notice if I even have any. It's VERMONT.

So. What to do? Yes. What to do ...

Well, while I am trying to figure that out (I do have a script of Hamlet here I am working furiously to f*ck up) here's a little news:

2006 Ohio Society for Professional Journalists Awards
Best Radio Documentary

First Place: I Hate This WCPN Cleveland

This prize is awarded to the best radio documentary produced. The documentary must be devoted to a single topic and be at least one-half hour in length.

Very nice. Thank you. For everyone's information, there are no "best radio drama" categories for these things, because no one makes those. So they put it up for Best Doc, which is weird, but hey, we won.