Headed off to Southern Pines to visit the Pratt family for a few days. I am going to be driving the Papa John (a.k.a. the PJ Fars, or "I hate this car!"), which only has a radio (not even a tape player). And so I have become well acquainted with the grave deficiencies of North Carolina radio stations, particularly where I live. Sometimes I just turn it off and listen to nothing. Or talk to myself. Or pray out loud. It's very quiet in that little silver box. The dashboard looks like it belongs in a toy car; there are only three dials on it. Despite my well-voiced complaints, if and when the PJ starts, it's actually quite a nice little thing. It gets superb gas mileage and it's very easy to drive. It gets me from point A to point B. Most of the time.
I found out a few days ago that I was accepted to a copy editing internship and that I have been placed at The Denver Post for the summer. It was an overwhelming discovery, because I had to decide if that was what I wanted to do in a matter of hours, but it is a fabulous opportunity and I feel very honored. Plus, Denver has got to be one of the coolest cities in America, and I've been saying for months now that I really want to live in Colorado someday. I guess this will be my trial run.
Being home has been nice. I've read a tremendous amount, written some, worked, watched good and bad movies.
A fuller entry will come later. For now, I'm off!
(*Joanna Newsom supplied today's title.)