Fall Update: The Penn Cove Award, Dick Grayson, and Summer's End

The one nice thing about waiting so long between blog posts is that there's so much to catch up on that I appear busy and not just. . .really bad at blogging.

At one point this summer, I even managed to clean off my desk.

"Clean," you'll notice, is not quite the same as "uncluttered."

But what's that on the left? Why look it's. . .

Let's all pretend that's a normal amount of chocolate for a single person to possess.

. . .an Underwood Noiseless 77 "portable" typewriter! (This was my grandfather's, and when my aunts and grandmother visited this summer, they brought it along.)

But what's that next to the Underwood? Why it's only. . .Barton College's Crucible, containing one my poems.

And yes, that does say Fall 2014, but the issue came out this summer. Which means the editors are only 76 months ahead of me.

And under that. . .a copy of Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder: Scholars and Creators on 75 Years of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman (McFarland), containing one of my essays.

"Mother Alfred: The Influence of Dick Grayson's 'Other Parent.'" This is what you turn to when even your closest friends and family members no longer want to hear your theories on family dynamics at Wayne Manor.

In other writing news, I won the September 2015 Penn Cove Award sponsored by the Whidbey Writers Workshop MFA program. The contest is monthly, and requirements are simply that the submission be no more than one thousand words and "knock the judges' socks off." My piece can be found here.

In non-writing news, last summer my friend Heather and I made a pact that we would enter the county fair this year, and we did. We both won blue and red ribbons, so I think we were pretty successful.

Heather's blue-ribbon-winning Ferris wheel photo.

My Alice's Adventures in Wonderland themed box.

We also attended Key City Public Theatre's Shakespeare in the Park production, A Midsummer Night's Dream. 
 

Do not ask how many photos I had to take before the two of us and the stage were in frame.

At the end of the summer, we walked down to the beach, where someone else had sent up a farewell to the season.

I realize that it's November and I should be talking about winter's approach instead of summer's end. But I have a hard time letting go of the sunshine. I'm snuggled deep into my denial. Maybe I'll finish a winter-themed post by the end of next spring.