No camera this weekend. Just me by myself at home too. And it really is just me. The chicks are living in the barn and the bottle baby is in a little pen in the yard- not far, just off the porch- but the important thing is that the yard is not mop-able. While working I suddenly remembered that a couple of weeks ago I submitted a poem in a contest, very impulsively.  The contest deadline was four hours away when opened the email.  And it cost $19 to enter. Immediately afterwards I felt exhilarated and then two moments later I crashed. “What kind of person takes a twenty-dollar bill and just throws it in the trash, because that is what you just did?” I said to myself. And I imagined the pain of the poor person who has to sift through bad poems. Apparently, Billy Collins was the judge. Argh!!!  Deep despair followed and out of a sense of self-preservation, I’m sure, I conveniently forgot it entirely until today. The house is very quiet when I am the only one here. I won’t say my poem was bad ( it was) because I do love myself enough to keep my chin up a little bit but I will say that I have read many, many poems that knock my socks off and leave me stunned and what I wrote was not that.  I do want to be the kind of person who tries. I need another one hundred rejections before I will be the person I really want to be.