Superbowls and Sunshine, Witchy Poets, Wordclouds and Titling, Changing Perspectives and Losing Control

Glenn and I in sunshine in Woodinville

Superbowls and Sunshine

After last week’s relentless roll out of bad news, this week seemed a little better. Maybe because it was a little sunnier. Maybe because I was so consumed doing research for a family member who was laid off (employment law!) and another family member dealing with cancer, I didn’t turn on the news even one time. Maybe because I watched some Olympian kids doing amazing things on YouTube (I hate watching our network coverage, but I love being able to watch individuals and teams doing their breathtaking best at such things as snowboarding or doing quad jumps in ice skates). Maybe I went to a couple of things that helped my perspective, physically and mentally, and maybe because my team just won the Super Bowl (Go Hawks!)

The music at the Super Bowl I expected to like—Bad Bunny, Brandi Carlile, Green Day—but the game was so satisfying to watch it was hard to look away. All the touchdowns were in the last 12 minutes of the game! The Patriots didn’t score a point until the fourth quarter. Almost no one got badly hurt (I don’t like seeing kids get hurt, even when they’re getting paid big bucks. They’re so young!) I enjoyed watching the game more than the commercials, shocker.

I went to my yearly eye exam and had a pleasant surprise—my optic nerve appeared to have healed since the previous exam, which almost never happens with MS. Oh, my eyesight’s still terrible, and glasses cost way too much (sticker shock every time I buy glasses), but that was good news.

Afterwards, I stopped by Island Books (near my eye doctor on Mercer Island) and gawked at their amazing collection of typewriters, and we went for a walk in the park, where there was some kind of pickle ball tournament going on. Mercer Island is different from Woodinville. The dogs look more expensive, for one thing.

One good thing about exploring parts of town you don’t go to very often is it feels like everything is an adventure—new bookstores, new parks, etc! I really should do it more often. In February, Seattleites really have to take advantage of any sunny warm days—it was sixty degrees on this particular day, and so bright—it really did do my spirit and body good.

Witchy Poets

Me after a new haircut

I attended a talk on Sylvia Plath and Mysticism and Witches by someone who is publishing a book on the subject. Almost everyone in the Zoom room had a Dr. before their name (except me), but I felt so comfortable during the talk—after all, I’ve been studying Plath for over thirty years, before it was cool! The talk itself really inspired my thinking about witchy poets, too. And about whether or not I should go get that darn PhD, health issues be darned. I really could use more intellectual stimulation—after all, I might have limitations in my body, but my mind gets really bored with limitations.

How to Choose a Title?

This also caused me to take another look at the relative witchiness of the manuscript I’m currently circulating to publishers. Here’s a Wordcloud that indicates the main mood of the book.  I think at this time, in this country, it’s an appropriate mood. I did work with changing the manuscript’s title again. How do you land on your titles when you’re sending out your books? Do you fiddle with them, adjusting them to what you think a particular publisher might like, or do you just stick with one until it’s taken? I’m afraid I am a fiddler. But it is good to step back and look at a manuscript as a whole and ask—what story is this book telling? What characters are central? What are the general vibes? Are there too many books out there with a certain title already?

I like anything that puts my work in a different light, that helps me think of it in a different way. This week the only television I watched was the Super Bowl and snippets of the Olympics. I spent more time in natural light and walking around outside. I didn’t do much on social media. I did some self-care (if haircuts and eye doctors can be considered that.) I barely looked at e-mail. If you read those sentences, it might seem obvious to you that all those things might lighten one’s mood and help one’s mental health. But it’s one thing to talk about going outside when it’s freezing cold and raining (or snow-and-iced-in, like the East Coast) and another thing to do it—and again, one thing to talk about being only minimally on social media or watching television, and another to stay away from both. Even with serious problems—in one’s own life, in the world around them—we can’t be in control of everything. We sometimes can’t be in control of things we think we should be—our own jobs, our own bodies, our own families, our own countries. We need to care for our own souls and bodies the way we would a friend or family member’s, though it’s always easy to brush that off. Anyway, I’m wishing you all a better week, a new perspective, and good news from unexpected sources.

Happy February! Snow Moons, Unusual Birds, Cancer Scares and Big Birthdays, the Power of Community and More

Snow Moon

Happy February! Snow Moons, Unusual Birds, Cancer Scares, and Big Birthdays

I hope you have a good February in front of you. The Snow Moon, unfortunately, brought a lot of snow to a lot of parts of the country—Nashville, Mississippi—that definitely were not prepared for it. Lots of power outages and downed trees. I remember 20 years ago these kinds of cold snaps were unusual for Virginia and DC, but with the strange climate changes, they’re no longer “once every 20 years” storms.

My little brother Mike and me

You might have noticed I didn’t post last week. I was a little down. Besides the dismal goings-on in Minnesota, a member of my family has been diagnosed with cancer. I myself have another cancer scare—should be old hat by now, and it’s just my thyroid this time—and another member of the family was laid off. It’s been cold and damp here—old-fashioned London winter weather, though it definitely is worse in other parts of the country so we can’t really complain. We have had a celebration or two as well—my little brother turned 50 (which means I must be older than 50 now? Dang!), and we’ve had several unusual bird visitors, probably due to the cold. A possible immature golden or bald eagle over the house, a couple of quail—and a small bird of prey—maybe a falcon or sharp-shinned hawk. Not perfect captures, but I hope they entertain you, anyway.

The Power of Community and More

This last couple of weeks has also reminded me of the power of community. In Minnesota, community protests have meant a little boy released from ICE detention, a change of leadership of ICE in town, and even friendly National Guardsmen handing out hot chocolate to cold members of the community. I hope this means that ICE will back down (Trump noticing his poll numbers shrinking, too, no doubt helps), and we’ll have no more horrendous human rights offenses or trying to take away Constitutional rights (freedom of speech and assembly, the right to due process for all on American ground, the right to bear arms, which the GOP is usually quite quick to defend, and birthright citizenship). People are making a lot of noise—and though sometimes it feels like nothing is being accomplished, if enough Americans make enough noise, occasionally we can change things for the better.

In my own life, a gathering of poets reminded me of the small, good things we can do for each other. I noticed that in encouraging each other, there is power—more success that seems to follow meeting together. That has been the case in my own writing life—and at least, things are more fun to celebrate (and commiserate) in a group. And the scary things of life don’t seem quite as scary.

A Change in Mindset: A Visit to Seattle Art Museum, A Friend from Out of Town, New Year’s New Hair

A Change in Mindset

Ah, January 2026—so far, not a month many of us will look back on fondly. This past week I did everything I could to get myself back into a better headspace. I changed my hair (back to auburn—the color I was born with!) I visited the Seattle Art Museum to fill my head with beauty instead of the awful state of things on the news, to wake up my inspiration. And I had a visit from an old friend from high school, who kindly brought me some Korean sunscreens from Paris (far superior to American ones—safer and more effective—in case you’re traveling to Paris or Seoul in the near future).  We went out to lunch then enjoyed the sunshine at Meydenbauer Park. On top of the news of fascism’s rise in America and a new trend in “MAGA hating white liberal women”—as reported by the New York Times (I didn’t need that headline, since they showed their love by shooting one of us in the face in the last ten days, and course blamed US for that problem)—I also had some new bad news about the health of a family member, which is always hard. ICE was also doing some random raids at my local Redmond Target and McDonalds. At least the Seattle Seahawks seem to be on the path to the Superbowl, a little something to cheer about.

Takashi Murakami’s Flower Globe

The Seattle Art Museum

I hadn’t been to the Seattle Art Museum in a while, so I had a pleasant surprise in some new art and installations there. I became a member again a month or so ago with the idea that maybe I could spend some more time looking at art and less time worrying about the state of the world, my health, my loved ones’ health…well, being with art is good for my emotional and mental health.

An installation of happy little clouds in the entryway ceiling made for a cheerful entrance on a gray January day. Then, a new acquisition is right at the ticket takers—a Takashi Murakami 3-D piece called Flower Globe. The featured exhibit was Impressionism: Farm to Table, which included great pieces—The Gleaners by Lhermitte, a haystack by Monet, a wonderful flowering apple scene by Sisley. But even more delightful was finding two new recent on-loan pieces in a lonely room on the fourth floor —The Chess Game by John Singer Sargent and The Water Lily Pond by Monet. No one even knew they were there, and they’re both amazing. Also a surprise—a giant wolf in cedar sculpture was a standout in the Animal Intelligence installation. Anyway, besides the horrible knot of traffic coming and going from downtown Seattle, it was a delightful visit, and I felt uplifted. (Here’s a link to see some good images from the Impressionist Show, which closed today.) I was underwhelmed by this art museum when I first moved here 20 years ago—I was hoping for a museum closer to Chicago’s, or San Francisco’s, art museums—but I think the place is improving. We have so much tech money in this area, but there are still too few billionaire/millionaire’s willing to loan or donate their art to our museum. If we had more support for the arts out here, it would certainly help lift the entire city, in my opinion. We can’t all simply be coding slaves to Amazon, Microsoft, or airplane builders at Boeing—we need to build art into the next generation’s sensibility as much as computer science. We need symphonies, and ballet, and visual art of all types, and yes, poetry.

Glenn, me, and Emily

Friend Visit Alert!

We had a visit from an old high school and college friend, Emily, who was kind enough to carry some Korean sunscreen with her from a trip to Paris to us here in Seattle. We caught up over a delicious lunch at all gluten-free, upscale Mexican restaurant Cantina Monarca (and I got to talk to the chef!) and then walked around in rare January sunshine at Meydenbauer Beach Park, which overlooks Lake Washington, before going home to dinner and enjoyed reminiscing about old times while watching the first couple of episodes of Only Murders in the Building (I’d forgotten how good those first few episodes were!) Emily was (as always) bright and energetic, and it was fun remembering old times. It’s funny how spending time with friends from—oh, thirty years ago—and it’s like no time has passed at all. Another good reset for our brains, too—spending time with friends is definitely something I want to do more, not less, of in 2026. It’s good not to take our friendships for granted, and I’m trying harder not to isolate myself so much (a holdover probably from the pandemic that I haven’t quite gotten over yet).

Me in the sun at Lake Washington

In Hard Times, How Do We Stay Resilient?

Emily asked me a question while she was here that made me think about how we allow ourselves to respond to hard times. How do you do it? Good question! I think I made a joke about “what are my other options,” but the real question behind the question is, how do you stay resilient in the face of pain, loss, stress, etc. Which is a question we all have to wrestle with. I wrote a poem (in my book Flare, Corona,) whose title is something like “In a Plague Year, We Are Tired of the Word Resilience.” But the truth is, we choose how to respond to tragedies large and small, pandemics, friends and family with tough medical diagnoses, our own health struggles, relationships that are lost (through death or through just growing apart), money troubles, divorces, and yes, nightmares of politics. I have never been one to be all-bright optimist—which you probably know if you read my books—or a “hide your head in the sand” denial-embracer. But I’m not really a pessimist at the core, either. Things like music, visual art, writing, books, friendships, and even something as small as enjoying a sunny day in January or changing hair colors—can give us a wider perspective, a chance to remove our focus from ourselves, and remember what it is we are living for. What we fight for.

When I volunteered with dying children and later, dying heart patients, in my teens and early twenties, and then again when I was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer—one thing I learned was that you have to give your body—your spirit—a reason to live. It can’t just be all chemo appointments and medication regimens and even therapy or yoga—those things don’t give you enough of a reward to stay in the fight, if you will. If you have a passion—if something really gives you joy—I recommend you give yourself more time and energy to spend on that, whether it’s making a perfect Basque cheesecake or painting a 3-D daisy globe that will sell for millions. How do we get through? By helping others, by feeling love for an animal, other humans, even plants, by creating something worthwhile, by feeling that we have a real purpose. Maybe we dress up and drink a glass of champagne and dance, or we visit a new city, or we meet new people or attend a football game or an opera—we give ourselves a reason to live, to hope, to experience new things. Wishing you all resilience in the face of 2026.

A Wonderful Visit with a Poet Friend in the New Year, and Then, Grappling with the ICE Murder of a Poet and an Unhinged President

A Wonderful Visit with a Poet Friend in the New Year

This post may seem a little bit unbalanced, but I have to describe the good times as well as the bad this week. Let me start with the birthday celebration with my good friend poet Kelli Agodon, in which we had a lot of laughs, some cupcakes, some libations, and some good talk about poetry. I had been feeling a bit discouraged on the poetry front, and Kelli is always good at helping me see the bigger picture on that front.

Glenn and Kelli’s husband Rose helped the festive mood, and Charlotte the literary kitten came out to be admired. Kelli’s new book is about to come out in a few months, and I am really looking forward to seeing it in real life!

It is no little thing to get together with friends and celebrate life’s joys. Human being’s capacity for joy is just as important as our capacity for grief and empathy—part of what makes being human worthwhile. After she left, I wrote my first poem of the new year and sent my book out to another publisher.

Grappling with the ICE Murder of a Poet, and an Unhinged President Grabbing Other Countries…

It is impossible to keep my blog apolitical these days. And why try? Not to quote Harry Potter, but as Minerva McGonagal said in The Deathly Hallows, “…his name is Voldemort, Filius. You might as well use it; he’s going to try and kill you either way.” There’s no point in trying to be nice, to not speak up in public, because at this point, they will try and kill us either way, and they proved it this week, murdering a young mother and award-winning poet, Renee Good, in cold blood by shooting her in the face when she was no threat, then lying about it and saying she was a ‘domestic terrorist.’ This evening, they were breaking into people’s houses in Minneapolis, where I have many friends, without warrants, brandishing guns in front of children. If anyone is the terrorist at this point, it is the Gestapo-like ICE agents, who seem to face no consequences, unlike our military and police force, for murder. We’ll see if the murderer is brought to justice. There is plenty of video evidence to show that the woman was no terrorist, though propogandists would have you believe otherwise, and the ice agent videotaping his encounter and when she says “I’m not mad at you” he growls “fucking bitch” as he shoots her three times in the head, with her wife and dog in the car. A white, innocent, American citizen—not a criminal, not an “illegal immigrant” but a local, mother of three, Christian housewife. None of those privileges protects us anymore from Trump’s evil personal secret enforcers. There were so many on the internet claiming Renee deserved to be murdered because she would not comply, but let me remind you, there were many that died in the hands of the Nazis, too for refusing to comply. I will be with the Resistance, in case you were wondering. I have a magnet on my fridge that says, “If I had to pick one word to best describe myself, I suppose it would have to be: Can’t. Follow. Orders.”

We must act to protect our country’s freedoms, or we must leave. It feels very much like the history books, reading about Berlin and Vienna in the 1930s. I remember reading about friends sneaking Jewish Dr. Freud out, and I remember asking myself why he didn’t leave sooner—but now I see, leaving isn’t easy, and a lot of people want to stay and fight to make their country a better place—though I am feeling unsure that that is even possible at this point. The United States, by the way, turned down Anne Frank’s application to come here to escape the Nazis, thereby causing her death in the concentration camps. Plus ca change…

With Trump kidnapping Venezuela’s President and First Lady, installing a puppet President and taking over the country’s oil, and now threatening our NATO ally Denmark by threatening to use military force to take Greenland, well, it sure does look like Hitler’s playbook, doesn’t it? And we know from history that appeasing bullies and dictators—as people and countries did in the 30’s—did not protect them. Not being willing to speak the evil’s name does not protect us.

These are serious times, and serious topics. It is easy to feel frightened and helpless and angry, all at once. I am a poet, and so, as we witness these moments, we will write poetry, maybe no one will read it, but we will write it all the same.

Here is my poem, “In Which I Declare My Resistance,’ published previously in Rise Up Review.

Happy New Year! A Poem in the Final Issue of The Pedestal, New Year’s Celebrations but I Guess We’re in a War Now?

Happy New Year! New Year’s Eve Celebrations

Unlike our Christmas, our New Year’s was happily uneventful and actually fun. No medical crises or anything. We celebrated together at the Willows Lodge, where we had cocktails and wore silly hats and rang in the New Year. We went home and tried to watch our local fireworks (socked in the fog, invisible with very unsteady camera work) so we switched and watched the Paris New Year’s celebration at the Arc du Triomphe, where I was amused they included KPop Demon Hunter’s “Golden” in the musical mix. People were in a festive mood, and when we got home we got in our pajamas and watched Sleepless in Seattle. For New Year’s Day we had the traditional (and delicious) hopping john and cornbread (my Southern heritage hasn’t been completely erased, you see) and had TMC’s The Thin Man marathon on all day while we slept in and did leisure things. I worked a little on my book, and tried to get outside although it was very cold unpleasant (you don’t move to Seattle for the January weather, that’s for sure.

Things I was delighted by on New Year’s Eve: Willows Lodge had its art glass fish wearing tiny holiday hats, and we enjoyed wearing silly hats ourselves.

A Poem, “Revontulet,” in the final issue of The Pedestal

I was very happy to have a poem in the final issue of The Pedestal, along with many friends like Connie Post and Heidi Seaborn, although I am sorry the lit mag is coming to an end. You can see my poem and the whole issue here.

Trying to Focus on Writing But I Guess We’re in a War Now?

I did not vote for the current President, so I can’t be accused of ever believing any of his many, many lies, but I’m pretty sure one of them was he wasn’t going to get us involved in foreign wars (along with cheaper eggs.) So last night he bombed the capital of Venezuela and kidnapped the President and First Lady without notifying or seeking the approval of congress, which seems shockingly illegal but it seems other Presidents have done it so…I guess, we’re in a war now against an impoverished country? All I ever knew about Venezuela was that their economy has been mismanaged and the people have suffered, their food was excellent, and every Venezuelan I’ve ever met has been extremely nice and very good looking. I knew from this MST3K short that the US had once had a partnership with Venezuela involved with oil, so I’m guessing that’s the reason behind this mysterious country-grabbing that this terrible egomaniac who runs our country (not with my blessing) mystifying actions.

In non-war news, I’m trying to figure out if I need to revamp my current manuscript with the new bunch of submissions. Does it need to be re-written? I am suffering, if I’m honest, with self-doubt and self-criticism. I thought this was a really good book, but have rejections hurt my confidence? For sure. It’s also a book that’s squarely about disability, feminism, and survival. That may not be what all editors are looking for.  Urgh. I hate the part of writing – and it’s a large part – that is rejection, doubt, insecurity, poverty, obscurity. The waiting. The thinking “Maybe I should quit. Maybe I should write detective novels or advertising copy.” One of my goals for 2026 is to find the right publisher for this book, along with maybe a little more travel and (hopefully) better health. Think good thoughts for me!

And as we enter this 2026, on the night of a Supermoon, I wish you a gentler year, at the same time acknowledging that it’s been a hard last few years and we have to be kind to ourselves. It’s hard to be in this country right now for me, and maybe for you, and feeling things happening that are out of your control. It’s especially hard in the arts, at a time when the world literally needs art more than ever. So be creative, even if it’s just in little ways. Sketch a bird or write a poem or make a craft for someone you love. Play the guitar. I feel somehow art in its subversive way may be the way through this year. So, welcome new year!