The Scranton Mine Disaster

Here's the thing, I was really really looking forward to meeting the chickens. I was really really excited about going into a coal mine even though I wasn't sure I'd actually be able to do it. I had every intention of meeting with two writing groups and putting forth my pearls of writerly wisdom. But as Robert Burns said:

"But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane [you aren't alone]
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley, [often go awry]
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promised joy."

I never made it. Well not the whole way. I wasn't feeling well when I left to drive to Scranton on Friday and by the time I arrived I was pretty much sick--with a head cold/sinus/snot/sore throat crud thing. My hosts, who I will tell you about a little later. HINT: Think Gotham City, Police Commissioner. Anyhoo, my hosts were so very gracious. I did manage to make the book signing at Northern Lights Espresso Bar. It was fun. That's the mic I sort of read into--unfortunately I sounded like a complete idiot. It was like my brain had been fried. I was, to say the least embarrassed, to say the most, mortified and I swear I will never do it again--but I often say that. The place was awesome. Scranton ROCKS!! I had never been to a First Friday celebration. Every town should do this and celebrate the arts. Every town! But I went back to the Pennsylvania State Police Commissioner's house--that's right, and crashed. The next morning I was supposed to go to see the chickens and do the coal mine tour and meet with to writer's groups but I was just too sick. I had to go home. My dear friends and students Leslee and Cindy were sad and so was I. But I just couldn't do it. So I drove eighty miles an hour all the way home--a two hour drive, I did in in one and a half. I went to bed. Slept until four o'clock, got up. Was starving. Ate whatever I had in the fridge. Went back to bed.

I feel better today. My throat is still a little sore. I still cough off and on but at least I can think again--at least I seem to be thinking. I will get back to Scranton very soon. I promise. I still need to meet the chickens and go into the coal mine and meet the writers. SCRANTON, I SHALL RETURN!


Marti Pieper said...

I'm sad to see this. I quote the "gan aft agley" line all to often (at least in my head). BTW have you read Daddy Longlegs and Dear Enemy? The quotes from Robbie add to the fun!

Will be watching for the rematch one day--and thankful you had a good place to crash. Sometimes giving up is the best thing you can do.

Marti Pieper said...

"gang" not gan. Scotch typo!