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I've decided to take Thursday nights off from the Resistance Manual work, partly because Friday is my early day and I am wiped by the end of the week, and partly because I just think it's good practice to take breaks from things to keep from burning out.

So I spent the evening submitting poetry instead. Partly because of the following conversation I had in email yesterday, but I mean, I've been submitting stuff a lot anyway. Still.


P = Professor at the college where I work who was also my English professor twenty-odd years ago
M = Me!


P: P.S., are you related to the Sandra Vannoy I taught twenty-some years ago, who was a really good poet?

M: I'm Sandra! And thanks so much. I loved your class, but I was too timid to bring it up before now.

P: Oh, wow! I still remember your poem about puddle-jumping. [goes on to be chatty for the rest of the exchange.]


My writing professor knew the name of one of my poems. Twenty years later. I was blown away. (I don't actually care that much for that poem now, of course, but still.)

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