So, I am feeling much better (thanks to a few doses of antibiotic) and the Port Townsend Writers conference is officially over, so I can get back to regular life. Regular life, right now, equals figuring out:
1. Where to move (city) – looking for hot, dry climates for my asthma. I have to take this breathing stuff seriously for a little while until my lungs get back into working shape.
2. Where to move (neighborhood) – checking Craigslist for rents, etc. If anyone one has any recommendations for neighborhoods around Scottsdale/Phoenix (the most likely city contender at this time) I am all ears.
3. Looking for possible work in the area (also appreciate any tips in that arena…)
4. Getting rid of some stuff from the house so we can move only what we have to (like turtles with our house on our backs)
5. Organizing garage sale (??)
6. Getting ready for family visits from my parents and then my little brother and his wife.
7. Where to maybe send some work out? Waiting for various checks I am owed? Nervously whittling on my two manuscripts or trying to work out some new poems?
8. Wonder why I am having pain in my neck?

Poetry is a weird ride. Sometimes I feel like, yes, I am making a difference, writing poems is really worth it when someone reads them and gets them and maybe it helps them a little bit. Then other times I feel like I am working on some antiquated art form no one cares about and certainly no one wants to pay for so why am I doing it?