Hey, dear readers! Well, AWP Atlanta is coming soon – I’ve already starting getting stuff together, shampoo, toothpaste, shoes. Is it going to be warm enough to pack sandals, what poems should I read during my five minutes at the Frock You reading, etc.
But, at the top of my mind, I have another aunt in the hospital (this time my mother’s oldest sister) with a serious lung infection (she has emphysema, so every infection could be life threatening.) My mom flew out to see her at the hospital, and is currently cleaning her sister’s house, because her husband is also sickly and can’t do a lot of that kind of stuff anymore (open heart surgery, passing-out headaches, etc.) I really love this aunt and uncle, who have always been funny and kind, and it’s hard to see them – still in their sixties – in so much physical hardship. I always give too much advice when I’m anxious – air-purifiers, humidifiers, electric teapots, organic house cleaners that don’t bother my aunt’s lungs. Advising my mom and uncle to press the doctors when they say they don’t know, and don’t know how to find out what’s wrong. That’s never a good sign. I’ve had pneumonia more than ten times myself (*thank goodness for the pneumonia vaccine – I haven’t had a case since I had the shot a few years ago) I know the antibiotics backwards and forwards, the pros and cons of steroids, the enemies – mold, dust, other people’s coughs – of fragile lungs. Anyway, whenever medical problems arise, I feel the need to be there, to hold hands, to ask doctors questions myself, to make sure the nurses don’t put cleaning fluids in the IV (that actually happened here at a Seattle hospital a few years ago.) It’s my control-freak nature. I want to save everyone. I want to hold them myself to keep them safe.
Got our taxes done this weekend with husband G’s help. He has been putting all the forms in TaxCut as they have come in, so it wasn’t that much work beyond adding up receipts, figuring out the sales tax deduction, things like that. A relief to not have to worry about that at least any more.
Still no place to live, and we have to be out of our current place of residence by May. No steady job. I don’t feel very settled. Anyone feel like putting a nice poet and her husband up for a year in their Seattle-area condo/house/etc? Will write poetry for rent? We Tauri (the plural of Taures? Taureses?) like to have things settled. But everything is up in the air. Last night I dreamed I was on top of Whistler mountain, riding a ski lift, with no coat. Later I dreamed I was attacked by multiple killer octopi, pulling me underwater and when I woke up I was coughing and coughing. A sympathy asthma attack, perhaps.

I was really looking forward to seeing two of my fave Seattle peeps read tonight at Open Books, the lovely and talented Rebecca Loudon and super-smart Ron Starr, but unfortunately, my sciatic nerve-back injury thingy was killing me and I ended up flat on my back again this afternoon after a day or two of tentative walking/bending/etc regular life. Argh! I bet they rocked the house. You know what is NOT good for romance on Valentine’s Day? Back injury. Sigh! And now I might have to get some xrays too. I’ve got mild scoliosis and they think I might have done something to a disk (disc?). I’m feeling 73 instead of 33!! I’m hoping to be walking tall by AWP with no problem – two weeks from now.
In the mail today, a contributor copy of Diner, with a review in it by me and a beautifully-written review of my book my someone named “Susan Frickshorn” who I believe to be wonderful blogger-poet Suzanne Frickshorn in a possible double/alias. Thanks Suzanne! I felt very honored!
In other news, have a happy Valentine’s Day tomorrow – do something fun, eat some roses, enjoy candy, in general.