November Gloom: Too Many Storms and Rejections

November Gloom: Too Many Storms and Rejections

I’m not going to lie: this has been a tough week. The weather has been a series of emergency alerts: wind storms that knock out power, rain that brings flooding and mudslides. Absolutely no outdoor time for me this week, even on my deck or to get mail. My computer (six months old, too expensive) is on the fritz and looks like it needs replacing already. I’m worried about my parents, aunts, uncles, in-laws, many of whom had health crises this week: falls, hospital trips, illnesses, house problems. The news isn’t so cheery these days either. Three snow leopards at a Nebraska zoo died of covid. Damn it covid, stay away from our snow leopards! A GOP school district in Kansas banned books by Margaret Atwood, Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, and Alice Walter, among others. Book burnings next? Yikes.

The time change, as predicted, has completely thrown off my sleep patterns, and I’m still fighting off a respiratory infection (non-covid) that has lasted three weeks now. I also received some really devastating rejections on my books this week. Some just feel more personal, more life-destroying, than others, right? Rejections that make you think: maybe I shouldn’t really be a writer. Maybe I should find something else and do that. I wish I had a publisher or a mentor who cared about me enough to advocate for me.

Going outside, pretty much my one area of consolation during the pandemic years, is cut off when there is driving wind and rain toppling power lines and trees and you’re running a fever anyway.

I’m still reading – in fact, I ordered some new books – poetry and some fiction on the theme “dark academia” – but not much writing and almost no submitting is happening.

Looking on Insta at friends who are healthy enough to travel and vacation in sunnier climes or visit family or go to conferences just makes me depressed, since as an immune-compromised person, I’m still not out of the covid woods and can’t even consider travel. Heck, I can’t even get over this regular run-of-the-mill sinus/bronchitis infection. My doctors can’t even say if I’m healthy enough to get a booster shot (too many of my special weird health problems interact with too many things to make any booster shot a clear win for me.)

I almost didn’t post this because I thought it would be too much of a downer. But hey, when you’re a chronically-ill, disabled person in a pandemic who is also experiencing a lot of “no” from her passion/vocation and there’s very little happy news – just grueling rounds of MRIs, blood work, doctor appointments, and even more of same- while separated from your family (going through their own stuff) and friends (also going through their own crises) then it’s just hard to rustle up a cheerful post in the darkest days of the darkest time of year. In case you ask, yes, I meditate, yes, I write down a gratitude list, yes, I’m taking vitamin D. Is this MS, SAD, perimenopause? Or “just” the length of the pandemic? I don’t know. But my reserves have been swallowed up.

Time Change, A Poem in Waterstone Review, Surviving November in the Second Year of the Plague

November Sunrise

Time Change and the Pacific Northwest

I am not a big fan of time changes. I wish it just stayed on Daylight Savings Time all year round, which gives Seattle more sunlight when we’re actually awake. We actually voted as a state to get rid of the time change, but turns out states don’t have that power.

This picture is not the sunrise this morning, but a few days ago, when it wasn’t quite so gray and gloomy. In fact, it occurs to me the poem I’m including in this post is very season-appropriate!

November isn’t the most picturesque time in the Pacific Northwest, but I did manage to get a few pictures this week that might fool you into thinking it is. Here’s Glenn and I at Chateau Ste Michelle, their harvest decor, and a rainbow on one of our stormy/sunny days this week, with our last blooming cosmos.

Sylvia with Water~Stone Review

A Poem in the new 2021 Water~Stone Review

So happy to get my contributor’s copy of Water~Stone Review’s annual print issue, which included my poem, “On the Autumn Equinox, 2019” but also poems by friends like Oliver de la Paz, January O’Neil, Todd Kaneko, and Alison Pelegrin.

The letter from the editor for this issue begins: “This issue is haunted.”

Here’s a sneak peek at my poem: (Click to enlarge)

From the Water~Stone Review

Surviving November in the Second Year of the Plague

There’s a spot on the grounds of the Columbia Winery near my house where I can reliably find Fairy Tale mushrooms (or Amanita muscaria) every year, but not until the flowers are nearly done and it’s started to feel like winter. It seems like a metaphor for the hidden beauties of this time of year; sometimes they take a little seeking out.

There was a meme going around on social media, something like, “This month I’m doing a challenge called November. It’s where I try to make it through every day of November.” That feels very true this year, in which we find ourselves confronting the end of the second year of the pandemic, getting booster shots, still unsure of whether it’s safe or not to…travel? see loved ones? have an indoor holiday dinner? It’s deflating to think that we are still dealing with the uncertainty and misery of the pandemic even after vaccines, plus now empty shelves at the stores (supply chain issues,) and a general feeling of malaise that’s hitting everyone from doctors (my brilliant hematology specialist of 18 years is going on “unlimited sabbatical” and my ER doctor friend from Alaska has moved to New Zealand) to mailpeople and retail workers. Don’t feel bad – this is hard. It is not your imagination. Do what it takes to survive this winter, and don’t feel like you have to be your usual ambitious, sparkling, driven self. I know I am casting around, looking for escape – should I move again? Get a job in a different city? Should I just decorate for the holidays way early, put on pajamas for the whole month and constantly stream Christmas specials?

“Adjusting expectations” seems like a continuous lesson of the pandemic. If you can’t get across country to see your family, well, you can still walk around a new neighborhood, try a new apple variety at your local farmer’s market, pick up a new book you might not usually read. If you miss shopping in stores in real life, there’s online shopping – there’s Facetime for talking to friends – and hey, it’s the perfect time to clean out your closet and send a box of clothes to charity or ThredUp. Yeah, these aren’t the options I was hoping to be facing at the end of this year, either. I sort of never want to hear the word “resilience” ever again. Anyway, if you are feeling down, or off, that’s okay. Rest up. Make whatever your favorite fall thing is – pumpkin pie, caramel apples, or just a grilled cheese sandwich or have a hot chocolate. Try to be kind to those around you – your family, friends, and people you interact with are likely also struggling. Don’t try to be cheerful when you’re not feeling it, don’t push yourself to fake anything right now. Read Yeats’s “Slouching Towards Bethlehem,” which feels timely always, but especially right now. Light a fire; hang some lights; burn a favorite candle. It’s Diwali, Southern Asia’s festival of lights, which celebrates the triumph of light over darkness and good over evil. I believe in that, in turning away from giving in to despair and trying to hope, to think of light in the darkest days.

Happy Halloween (and a Spooky Poem,) Living with MS and Selma Blair’s Documentary, and Turning Dark

Pumpkin Display at JB’s Pumpkin Patch

Happy Halloween!

Well, kids, the end of October is upon us, and so is Halloween, Samhain, the Day of the Dead – basically a time to recognize the beginnings of the darkest time of year, a time to take stock, to pay respects to ancestors and those we’ve lost. A good time for ghost stories and watching horror movies. A great time, also, to celebrate the harvest.
After a week of dark, cold, and “bomb cyclone” storms here in the Pacific Northwest, and me recovering from a (non-covid) nasty cold, we had a welcome sunny day today and went around to farmer’s markets in our neighborhood (apples, fennel, peppers, and squash are perfect right now) and even to a pumpkin patch. It was nice to walk around outside without getting soaking wet (we were not having drizzle, more like downpours all week) even if we had to put on a sweater AND a jacket.

Glenn and Jeannine with sun flare and harvest decor in Woodinville

I think fall food is my favorite, and it’s fun to have the colors and smells of the season in the house. To celebrate the harvest here at our house, we are making delicata squash risotto with fennel tonight, and plan to make some pumpkin goat cheese tamales tomorrow (it’s possible we bought too many pumpkins…) We’re also going to set up an outside bench with a table for candy (and rubber ducks for the allergic) for the kids – still outdoors, but hopefully safe for everyone involved. Pandemic Halloweens for two years in a row must be hard for children.

Below you can see me in cheetah ears and cat’s eye sunglasses in Kirkland, a spooky waning Harvest moon, and a Towhee dressed perfectly for Halloween in black and orange (with red eyessss…so spooky!)

Me in sunglasses, fall colors in my yard

Introducing Selma Blair and Talking About Living with MS

This week I watched the moving documentary, “Introducing Selma Blair,” on Discovery+.

Glenn and I with pumpkin display at JB’s pumpkin patch, in sunglasses

In case you’re wondering, one of the reasons so many pics feature me in sunglasses is because they help limit stressful brain stimulus. Yes, I walk with a cane, and sometimes, for distances, a wheelchair. I try to stay as active as possible, despite vertigo, some memory issues and foot drop.

Finally, a Spooky Poem, as Promised!

“The Year I Became a Witch,” in Gingerbread Lit

Glenn and I in the sun at a pumpkin patch

Turning Dark

Though all the pictures we took today were in the bright sunshine, the truth is our days of sunshine are going to be limited – especially after this month, especially after the time change, which robs us of desperately needed afternoon sunlight time.

I try to embrace the darkness rather than fight it; see it as an opportunity to change some habits, get to sleep earlier, rest more, take my vitamins, cultivate indoor activities and of course, as a writer, read and write more. For some delicious fall reading, I recommend two books I’m in the middle of: Louise Gluck’s perfectly seasonal and melancholy Winter Recipes from the Collective, which I think is her best book in years, and the art-world mystery which I picked up because it’s loosely based on Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, Fake Like Me by Barbara Bourland. If you haven’t read Rebecca, definitely read that first. A very haunting classic.

What do you do to get through the dark times? (Yes, I realize we are literally going through a dark time because the economy, pandemic, etc. as well as literally getting into darker, colder months.) Do you have any tips for not totally ruining your internal clock with the time change? I am wishing you all kindness, health, and happiness as we turn towards a new season and the end of a difficult year.

A Blustery Week, Ferry Foibles, Visiting Friends and Family Over the Water

Glenn and I at Pumpkin Patch (McMurtrey’s Farm)

A Blustery Week

It’s been a blustery week – the Pacific Northwest hit with “bomb cyclone” weather patterns – right now, I’m typing as my power is flickering on and off. We tried to make the best of the brief mornings and afternoons of slightly better weather whenever we could.

Blustery weather cannot be a surprise to us in the Pacific Northwest – we often get a windstorm so fierce it blows down the leaves before they even get a chance to turn. The one good thing about cold wet weather is it keeps you inside, so you get more writing, editing, and submitting work done. I was, however, darting out whenever there was sun to plant bulbs, even visiting pumpkin farms and farmer’s stands during relatively calm warm intervals between rain, cold, and wind. The hummingbirds and woodpeckers are still as active as ever. We only got to see the fuzzy waning Harvest moon one night, as the others were too cloudy to see anything, but we can feel the time change coming, and the temperatures dropping, and the days getting shorter – yes, fall has definitely arrived. We are eating more than our share of the beautiful apples out here, as well – favorite varieties include Cosmic Crisp, Candytime, and Pazazz.

Glenn and I with little brother Mike and sister-in-law Loree at their back deck

Ferry Troubles and Visiting Friends and Family Over the Water

We did finally make it across the water for our visit to see friends and family, despite the ferry foibles (sickouts, vaccine protests, staffing problems, etc., cutting service down to one boat on all the usual ferry routes) it just took a little longer and felt a little more stressful.

It reminded me that living across the water, thought beautiful and more affordable, was so stressful for me because you are always at the mercy of the ferry (and sometimes bridge) schedules. Never could be sure you’d make a doctor’s appointment or a friend’s reading on time. You have to cultivate more Zen than I think I have in me to live out there permanently.

The trip, though hampered by the aforementioned foibles, was worth it! As with all great journeys, this one took some careful planning and plotting, but we had some grand adventures, too.

Kelli and I in the gazebo overlooking the Puget Sound

First, we got a chance to visit with my poet friends (and Two Sylvias Press editors) Kelli Russell Agodon and Annette Spaulding-Convy, who came and met me at the ferry arrival area. We shared carrot apple ginger cupcakes in a gazebo overlooking the water and got caught up on writing news in the brisk outdoors. I also picked up a pack of the Two Sylvias Poet Tarot set. It was great seeing friends IN PERSON again. I forgot how great it is socializing in real life, especially with other writers!

Then we traveled on to see my little brother Mike and sister-in-law Loree at the new house they’re renting on the Hood Canal, stopping along the way at a local park to unpack a thermos of hot cider and snap a pic – only to see a sea lion fighting with seagulls right behind us. We had a good visit, sat out on their beautiful deck overlooking the Hood Canal, had a little dinner, then made the long trek back to Woodinville. Once again, great to see actual family in human form, instead of just over the phone or over a screen.

During our trek, we did see at least one heron, about ten otters, seals and sea lions, and lots of other things we don’t get as much of a chance to see in Woodinville, and mercifully, it was a little chilly out, but didn’t rain on us the whole trip! Some more pics from the trip, including the park where we saw the sea lion/seagull fight. I think if I lived where my brother does, I’d try to get out and paint that view of the water every day. It was so tranquil, except for the otters occasionally scurrying by. I was entranced by the cloud formations on the water. Anyway, a wonderful chance to see friends and family we haven’t gotten to see often enough over the past two years.

Me at Chateau Ste Michelle’s gates

Last Few Pictures of October in Seattle

So, before I go, a few more pictures of October around our neighborhood: wineries with fall decor, fairy tale mushrooms, and even more pumpkins. Those beautiful poisonous mushrooms were on the grounds of Columbia Winery, believe it or not. You never know when magical things will pop up around here. Fall can be a beautiful time here in the Northwest, if you know where to look (and don’t let the weather daunt you too much!)

A Week of Harvests (with Record Cold and Rain,) A Poem in Bellevue Literary Review, A Meditation on Boosters, Ferry Snafus and Shortages

Glenn and I at JB’s Pumpkin Farm, Redmond

A Week of Harvests (with Record Cold and Rain)

It’s been a dreary week with record cold days (with the records of cold going back to the 1800’s!) and record rain. To cheer ourselves up, we visited the local farm stands, so we had fresh corn to make salads with and sweet baby peppers and apples and squashes of all sorts. We made pear soup (don’t know if I’d recommend) and baked cranberry apple bread and generally tried to stay warm. Glenn also had a physical on Monday and his third Pfizer booster shot. By the end of the week, not just Pfizer, but all the boosters had been approved.

After our weekend plans to visit my little brother and a friend over the water were ruined by problems with the ferries, we decided to make the most of the warmer day and partial sunlight and visited a brand new but beautiful pumpkin farm near our house, JB’s Pumpkins in Redmond, and Kirkland’s Carillon Point to find roses on the water still blooming, and went grocery shopping in person (something we rarely do) at Metropolitan Market. Plentiful produce and flowers, but other shelves – frozen aisle, dry goods, paper goods – were empty. A little unnerving, like we were having a hurricane that we didn’t know about. But everyone was in a kind mood – even friendly – which seems like people responding to lowering covid levels and, of course, the nicer weather after a very dark cold week. Below is a trio of pics Glenn snapped of me frolicking in the Harvest scenery and sixty-degree day with pumpkin-colored hair and a pumpkin-hued dress. (I do not have a pumpkin-hued cane yet.)

Sylvia with Bellevue Literary review, a glass pumpkin, and a pink pillow

A New Poem, “Some Nerve: a Nocturne” in Bellevue Literary Review

Another piece of good news this week was receiving my contributor’s copy of Bellevue Literary Review’s 20th Anniversary Issue, which contained my poem about MS, “Some Nerve: A Nocturne.” This is a journal, like Image last week, that I have been sending to for over a dozen years, so the publication was definitely celebratory for me. You can see the whole issue here.

You can see a sneak peek of my poem here. (Click on it to enlarge.)

Pink mums from my yard

A Meditation on Boosters, Empty Shelves, and Ferry Troubles

So along with the wet, cold days this week, we had an onslaught of news about the vaccine boosters – which were approved, who was approved to get them, how long should we wait to get them. For Glenn, who already got his third Pfizer and his report (no big deal), it was easy. For me, it’s a little more complicated, with a bleeding disorder and a history of anaphylaxis from different kinds of shots, and since I got the J&J the first time, I’m going to have to hear from a couple of my specialists to help me decide what to do. The good news is we know I still have antibodies from my first dose of J&J, which makes it feel like less of an emergency. (None of my doctors expected me to even have antibodies this long after, so good news.) For Americans, it is a privilege to have access to third shots when people is some countries still don’t have their first one.

Wheelbarrow full of pumpkins – an image of abundance in the harvest

Since we’ve been shopping at Instacart and local farm stands, we’ve mostly missed what people have been telling us for a while: shelves are empty. Certain things that are pretty normal are in short supply, or just ungettable. My dentist cancelled my crown appointment because they couldn’t get their usual dental drugs at all. Americans are not used to doing without. The ugly scene of backed up shipping container ships is obvious if you get near Tacoma or downtown Seattle’s ports – which are strained to the point of failure. Not only that, the ferries are all understaffed, so four of the most common ferry runs – including the ones I’d used to get to my little brother or any of my Bainbridge, Kingston, or Hood Canal friends, the Bainbridge and Edmunds – were cut in half. That’s like blocking half the interstate for people who live over the water. We had been planning to visit, but Saturday morning, there were multiple hour backups on all the ferries we’d take. It was so frustrating after carefully making plans way in advance to see them ruined – but lots of people are feeling that this week, with cancelled flights, cancelled ferries, and other travel snafus. (Mercury is of course, still in Retrograde ’til tomorrow.)

Hot air balloons, October sky (rare sunshine)

It made me think about how isolated we could have been when we lived on Bainbridge or In Port Townsend – it’s the reason we don’t live there now. Because as beautiful (and more affordable) as those places were, if you can’t get to your specialist, or you want to visit friends or do some shopping off-island – it makes your quality of life less. I never liked being dependent on a drawbridge (Hood Canal) that could close at any time AND a ferry that might be unreliable even in better times. Shortages of workers – at the docks, at the ferries, at grocery stores – are visible. We don’t really go to restaurants, but I did notice a twenty-car line at our local McDonald’s for takeout and a huge “Help Wanted” poster wafting in front of the place. So the impacts of covid go beyond the deaths of people we know and love, wrecking the economy…now we’re seeing long-term problems with the supply chain, with employment, with the basics of how we used to do things. I say “used to” because clearly some things need to change. Workers are burned out and mostly underpaid. The “just-in-time” inventory models that worked pre-covid – show the dangers of running of margins of profit and supply. This really impacts people who take medicines that are hard to find – doctors in hospitals who can’t get their hands on common anti-nausea or pain drugs, and of course everyone who just can’t find their cereal/cat litter/cleanser/paper goods at the store.

On the poetry front, more literary magazines are closing for good (just heard from Foundry this week) and publishers are pushing back open submissions periods until 2022. (Oh yeah, books are also going to be in short supply – paper shortages, getting printings from overseas – all causing book supply chain problems.) And everything’s more expensive for publishers right now.

So things aren’t quite over yet. Will we need even more boosters before covid is officially considered “over?” How safe will the holidays be? Shipping container/warehouse/truck driver shortages according to the news may be backed up definitely until Christmas, and maybe for an entire year. When will I be able to get dental work or visit my brother? If you’re feeling stress and anxiety, you are probably not alone. Humans don’t operate that well with a ton of uncertainty. So I hope you’re doing your best to take care of yourselves and those around you. Get a pumpkin, take a walk on a sunny day, bake something with apples and ginger. If things are not going back to “normal” or as CNN put it  this week, “the before times” any time soon, we need to practice our deep breathing, make our plans flexible and appreciate any little joys we can find.