Stanford's Continuing Studies Program. I took a memoir class and the next semester I took a poetry class. While that period of time was extremely stressful with the kids/house work, those classes kept my spirits up.
Want to read a silly poem I wrote while taking the class at Stanford? My homework assignment was to write a Pastoral Poem. It's about a kid named Steven who moves to the suburbs. I put Steven into everything I write when I don't want it to look like I'm writing about myself. He is always swearing. Now that I think about it, he reminds me of Owen.
I remember having so much fun writing it, reading it to the class, and then getting it critiqued to death. I love a good edit. I forgot to make the changes when I came home, though. I've since lost my notes. That was never the point anyway, to become a poet. I had good time with it and moved on. I wouldn't mind taking another writing class soon. For nothing else, to experience the exciting rush of working on something and the nervous energy while sharing it to the class. Love that feeling.