I have been looking with longing at the program for the 12th Annual West Chester University Poetry Conference: Exploring Form and Narrative. Among the offerings are workshops on rhyme with Dick Davis, meter with Timothy Steele, a master class with Mark Jarman, and a keynote address by James Fenton, who is also interviewed by Dana Gioia. Alas I can’t fit it in this year, but perhaps I can make the thirteenth edition next year. Never been to Pennsylvania…
Back here on the Coast, I was minding my own business on Tuesday afternoon… well, to be truthful I was engaged in some anguished last minute edits of my poems for the final Form in Poetry class, when the phone rang and Peg said: so, we’ve just got some fresh crab, want to come over and help us eat it? I dithered for a number of seconds, remembering several ill-starred occasions under the sign of the crab back in my Edmonton days. Then I thought, well, maybe it was a passing thing. Maybe it was bad frozen crab crossed with too many libations. Maybe it was just time to give it another try. So I brought along a quiche lorraine for a back-up, but the crab was fresh and simple, boiled in salt water, needing nothing but a nice bit of french bread and salad. And it went well with gin! The best news was that I suffered no ill-effects at all, so that strikes off the only food I’ve ever believed I was allergic, or at least intolerant to. I am grateful.
My maternal great-grandma used to make gnocchi filled with a cottage cheese concoction that was wonderful! She’d serve them with butter and corn syrup. Yum!!!
B-)
My vote is for Red River also. Oatmeal was what we subsisted on for a few tight years. Several of my children will have absolutely nothing to do with it as adults. And there is the eternal debate, to salt or not to salt. My mom learned from her parents (Scots) to salt but I don’t condone it.
Wow, I’ve never heard of stuffed gnocchi, but it makes sense and sounds amazing. Was that dessert or.. breakfast?
I’m with you on the salt question Carla. Crunchy brown sugar and lovely cold milk is all I want on my porridge.
I know what you mean about eyeing up various poetic conferences and workshops to attend. I’ve seen a few that made me wish I had a bigger budget and less demanding job. I checked out Wired after you mentioned it and oh my…my little heart goes pit-a-pat.
The cheese-filled gnocchi were for mealtimes, but if there’d happen to be some leftovers in the fridge, well, you never know when they’d be eaten…
B-)