Today, when I checked phone messages after my nap, there was a breathless message from Maddie, ten years old and my oldest grandchild. Her teacher last year had submitted a shape poem she wrote (around a musical note) to a company that does anthologies of children's poetry, and Maddie just got word that hers would be published, probably next January. When I called back, her mom said that after jumping up and down in excitement, the next thing she did was to say, "I have to call Juju!" I was approriately proud and happy for her when I called back--my goodness, the thrill of publication at the age of ten. The anthologies are sold to libraries, but she assured me would could buy copies. I will have to tell her that I was about her age when I wrote my first short stories--my mom saved them, and I swear I have them someplace, but I wish I knew where. I can still tell you--and do sometimes tell audiences--what the stories were about. Meantime, I'm excited for Maddie. She's a wonderful student--said today yes, she's getting all As in 5th grade--and still such a sweet and loving girl. The girls in that family are coming for our girls weekend the 12th, and Maddie promised to help my babysit.
Jeannie was telling me about a new, young, temporary yoga instructor in the class she takes. She makes them do the table position--from what I know you bend your knees, put your arms down, and lift your torso flat like a table. But then the instructor had them raise on leg straight in the air and hold it for one minute, then extend it for one minute. I will never achieve that and decided I do yoga for wimps, though Elizabeth always tells me, "If it hurts, don't do it." My muscles no longer quiver, except for my legs on down dog. Elizabeth recently had me increase my program to include the mermaid position, the breast stroke (like swimming on the ground) and supine walking. And some days when I do my yoga I am truly worn out. But the table with a leg raised? I don't think so.
Went to a staff meeting today and came home loaded with so much work that my plans to finish that mystery went out the window. I'm now reading the first pages of a manuscript and liking it, but that's an acquisitions problem. Once again, retirement is not dull!