I just threw last month’s sonnets away, too, but put them on top of the garbage because last week I spotted one of my trash guys in Starbuck’s reading Proust. Therefore, I thought he might have some helpful hints, something a notch or two above, “No more horizontal stripes for you, chubby boy.” Or, “Llama/mama isn’t the most felicitous rhyme I’ve ever seen.”

I went to the P.E.N. dinner last night to introduce Kathy Appelt who won the kids’ writing prize for THE UNDERNEATH. First of all, Pasadena is about 18 miles from Beverly Hills, but it takes 90 minutes to drive there during rush hour. We valet park her truck, Bianca is starved, so we go down to the coffee shop and pay $14 for an egg salad sandwich. Then sit upstairs by a fire and listen to people make deal after deal on their Blackberries. Hollywood is just a parody of itself. If you haven’t seen Tim Robbins in THE PLAYER, rent it now!
Watching the Weather Channel reminded me of how cold it is in MN, so here’s a haiku from Billy Collins:
Full moon on new snow,
and in the corner
an open can of white paint.
Buddy the cat says hello to everyone.
RK