Dear Reader:
Tuesday again... Here I am ready to enter the confessional for what will be a spontaneous confession as I have not given this much advance thought today. And Maybe that is where I should start. I confess that probably less then half the time I spend much thinking about the confession more then an hour or so in advance of actually showing up here to do it. So like tonight, I'll take a deep breath and see what I can get off my chest.
Before arriving here I received an email rejection from an editor. I mention it just for the sake of acknowledging the humbling experience that it is. That and the fact that several others I know mentioned on Facebook today the received rejection in the last couple of days. Perhaps it's the alignment of the stars. But maybe the poems really just were not a good fit. Some days when I am feel especially ridiculous I conjure up the image of the editors standing in front of a mirror trying poem after poem and casting most into one pile for the ones that don't quite fit. Anyway getting today's rejection only make me that much closer to getting one that an editor feels is a stunning fit. I confess to optimism.
Father's Day was Sunday - this is a day that I always have conflicted feelings about. On one hand, I really have no connecting Father's Day experience as a son. I only know it as a father. In some respects it becomes a day in which I perhaps think of the lack of a father in my life maybe more then other days, though it would be fair to say that much of my life I have been troubled by this fact. My father and I had only minimal contact and that didn't occur until I was of adult age. That I can recall, I never saw him until I was out of high school.
My family has always been very generous with me on Father's day. I often feel that the attention is more then I deserve. None the less, I certainly appreciate it. This year my son gave me two new San Francisco Giants baseball caps. The girls, they went in together and gave me a subscription to Ancestry.com. I've done a little genealogy research in the past, but this will make it easier. I confess that part of my interest in our family history relates to the minimal contact with my father's side of the family. I confess there is a bit of irony in the gift from my daughters on father's day. And as for my son, he knows he can never go wrong with anything related to S.F. Giants.
My right eye has felt like it has had something on it all day. I confess that efforts to flush it or deal with it in any fashion through the day had me in a cranky mood. I hope it was not apparent to the rest of the office. We didn't have a court docket today and I was in my office for the most part and as is sometimes the case, I had the door closed most of the time. I've put something in it since I've been home and it was a little better but it seems to be wearing off. If this remains like this tomorrow I think grouchy would my baseline and I'd only get worse from there. [This post constitutes my full disclosure and warning]
Amen!
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