You already know this has been and is continuing to be a grouchy week for me. I feel a little out of sorts and because this feeling is so unimaginable for me (yeah, right) I decided that 'Wine Friday' is now 'Wine Wednesday'. The moment the kids and Frank hit the hay at 8, I hit the bottle of vino. Two glasses in, my neighbor called n a panic "Can you help my son with his poetry class? He's behind on some homework and the teacher has given him TONIGHT to catch up!" I was honest and told her I was into the wine and therefore could make no promises about the quality of such poetry, but if she didn't mind her son being around a wino, please send him over.
I think we did a tremendous job (I think we wrote 5 or 6 poems) and except for the poem I helped him write about...ummmm...bodily functions, I think we did a great job. We were discussing the finer points of poetry and I tried to relate it to something all pre teen/teen/grown assed men can relate to: impressing women.
I told him if he could write a girl a poem, or even better, a song, he could probably have any girl he wanted. Especially the song part. I told him a story from my youth- 17 to be exact- when a guitar player friend of mine wrote a song for me. I will never forget it. I don't even know if it had words, but the point was he wrote it for ME. I was on cloud 9. My neighbor's son told me a couple of stories about boys in his school writing girls poems or songs and the boys? Well, they almost always ended up with the girls. He left my house pen and paper in hand with a gleam in his eye and a newfound appreciation for the written word.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. K: you're welcome! But I should also say I'm sorry for the poem about farting. He probably should NOT use that one to try to get a girl!