Tenth anniversary of September 11. I have to say, I could only take so much of the memorial on NPR before I had to turn to other things. I’m an easy target for tears and – I think we can all agree – this event can never be remembered without bringing up harrowing emotions. For me, the combination of tragedy, love, hate, heroism, survival, sacrifice, trauma, community, horror, etc., is all too much. Overwhelming becomes an understatement.

Yet, today was a good day, and one to remember as well.

Last night, the University of Michigan football team kicked some Irish shamrock and I was still reeling when I woke up this morning, albeit slightly hoarse from having yelled a bit too loudly the night before. I believe most of Dover heard me. GO BLUE!

Right now I should be reading for my class in the morning. Instead, I’m glad to pause in order to write about the great evening I spent with great friends in our English department. We’re lucky, I think. The few I’ve been fortunate enough to spend time with have been terrific and I’m delighted I’ll be spending the next two years with them.

Tonight, Alison – most modest, yet talented fiction MFAer – made us fish tacos and corn on the cob while the rest of us (Jon the poet, Anna, my newly-appointed supermodel partner in crime and lit PhD extraordinaire, my soon-to-be-neighbour and Shakespearean sympathizer Brad, and Lisa, future NatGeo Renaissance woman) gabbed and gargled wine. This was soon followed by an attempt at Scrabble. I say attempt, because it seems as though we weren’t paying enough attention to Anna’s handsome dog, Roscoe (decked out in bow-tie and painted toenails), and he declared the game officially over by knocking all pieces off the board. Good boy! Kiara, on the other hand (Alison’s 12-year-old puppy) was a little princess in the corner who didn’t seem to mind our vocabulary mischief.

It’s going to be a good year.

(Photos, compliments of Lisa M.)