I've been working on two short stories. (Actually, one is kind of long, almost a novella?). I'm having a lot of fun getting back into the prose rhythm. It's a very different kind of writing than poems. I was afraid it was going to make me stop writing poems for a while. Instead, it has made it a little more clear to me what makes a poem a poem.

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Tonight Dean and I are going to West Side Story. I am not much of a show queen at all. But Dean can hum a tune from practically every show: South Pacific, Oklahoma, Guys and Dolls, etc etc. He really has a soft spot for this show. Dinner first at Tulio's. Wheee!

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Our basil is dying. One squash is dying. Something is eating the roots. Dean thinks it is ants. Weird. I have never seen this before.

But the tomatoes are growing like gang-busters. Some of them are already to the tops of their cages.

Yesterday I ate our first raspberry.

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