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Book Party/Author Reception

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Soooo it wasn’t exactly a launch, since the book had several soft coming outs, but last week we had a party to celebrate Woman of a Certain Age. And oh my goodness. Yes I was nervous and scared—but I wasn’t doing it by myself. I had Dawn Burns a professor in the Rhetoric Dept. at MSU and also a writer with 2 books coming out this year. She’s part of a Great Lakes Anthology and also has a collection of linked stories coming out later this year at Cornerstone Press (part of the University of Wisconsin). LINKS Also, a friend and workmate who’d read an advance copy volunteered to read a short short titled “I Wish the Virgin Mary was my Girlfriend,” something he said really resonated with him. Me—basically I had to just show up. I did arrange the food table and setting up the books. These kinds of thing are usually by-the-seat-of-the-pants kind of thing. But I had folks stay the entire 2 hours and also people who rushed in at the last minute from an appointment in Ann Arbor to buy...
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Throwback—This Winter

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Throwback—This Winter This was ordinally written in Chicago, posted February 12, 2014 The other day I walked into the kitchen at my daughter’s house and someone said—"You look like one of those Finnish winter soldiers.” I had on long johns, a cable knit sweater, with a quilted white shacket (from Wiki: A shacket is a versatile hybrid garment, combining the structure of a jacket with the style of a button-down shirt. Thicker than a standard shirt but lighter than a coat). I did indeed look and FEEL like a winter soldier, standing up to the cold and snow. And, a little stealthy, in order to blend in. Somewhat like a snowy owl or snow hare. This Winter February 12, 2014, written in Chicago This is the first winter I can remember when 2 coats wasn’t enough. This winter I’ve worn my long underwear for the past 40 days. This winter has been so cold that 4 above feels like a heat wave. This is the first winter where I’ve come to understand the principle of hibernation. As ...
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I can’t believe it’s February

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17℉

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17℉ A number is just a number until attached to a thing. For the right-brained One, two, three, For some, more or less, How does it feel? Take calories for example: One may consume 2000 And wreak havoc, while Those filling up on veggies Salad, whole grains equal That number and more! One person gains, another Loses, looses. Not all temperatures are the same Is 17℉ cold or frigid? My weather app ascribes both It depends. Is it sunny or cloudy, Night or day, full Or waning moon? Monday, I skied in 17℉ And felt warm, almost hot! Yesterday, I skied in 17℉ In blustery snowy conditions And never fully warmed up. I awoke today to 2℉ And didn’t know how To start the day Where is the gauge? x country skiing Meridian Twnshp Historic Village
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Rooftop Overhang Growing Fangs

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The big house next to my Tiny House is a throbbing hub of energy. I can hear my grandsons’ feet pounding the kitchen floor as they run circles around the table. The little one shouts in glee. The attic was long ago converted into living space. Not sure how well insulated the house is. After a snowfall the roofs are iced in white, but after a day or two there are melt spots (if no further snow covers), peeking out like shorn fur on an animal’s hide. The process of melt—either generated by the house, the inhabitants, or thermal from the rare appearances of the sun, a mid-day warmup—creates spectacular icicles. Like fringe on a surrey. Like monster fangs. Like daggers hanging from a knight’s belt. Like cavern stalactites, solid, hanging from cathedral ceilings. They multiply, grow longer by the day. I gauge how cold it is by the number of icicles lining the eaves. Visitors from the far north of Narnia.
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