Wednesday rolled around and we didn't get much sleep, unless you count the dog and Kate. We got the trashcans out to the street and I got a number of things accomplished at the office and I suppose we should get the family to church tonight.
I don't feel very poetic today. I was reading some of my most recent poems and I like the way some of them lay on the paper. But I don't think I could come up with anything original today.
I say that, but it doesn't take much.
I wish we could go to Savannah this weekend. That would be fun. We could all spend an evening at Kevin Barry's and stay on the beach. Cindy has been looking on the internet for cheap motels on Tybee. A little Irish folk music, a tankard of Guinness, and some sea food. Maybe a Chatham Artillery Punch or two. Some she-crab stew. That sounds rather inspiring right now.
There is nothing like putting on some nice casual clothing and walking down the ballast stones to River Street for a few pints and some seafood. Hard to beat.
I would even put up with Paschal Maloney.
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