Kim Chinquee

I didn’t unfriend you; Facebook kicked me out

Hello. I have a long version of the FB saga at the end – if you want to scroll for the details as to why I am not on Facebook. I’d rather speak of better things in this world like how I never knew these plants I call snake plants bloomed, but mine did.

Early this month, my 10-minute play, “Dust Up on the Skyway” was produced by Matt Boyle as part of “Get in the Car.” Kudos to the director, Andrea Simmons and to the real-life mother-daughter actresses – Hayley Wilkins and Lisa Sommers – who brought an incredible spark to the story. It felt invigorating to see other people’s work – so much so that I’ve been working on a one-act…

Theresa and Robert were fab for traveling in from Chicago and including us in their visit to western New York and the fancy named towns like Greece. As part of a choir, Jim and Mike serenaded all of us before a delightful meal at Steel Bound with their wives, as well at Denise and Eric.

The last scheduled meeting of the writing group that met at West Falls was cancelled. I ran into a participant at Wegman’s recently, she thought about offering to host that one, but didn’t. I thought about it, too. It was an interesting experience and prompted me to start one at a different library (Thank you Lydia!) That group is still going on and still offering hope that my writing isn’t horrid while allowing me the privilege of reading other people’s work. (Thank you Susan, Deb, and Hannah!)

Rina Fosati’s ventured out to Hamburg where we met at Comfort Zone for coffee. We often zoom on Tuesdays, but in person is better and it had been a while. Thursday, Husband agreed to go with me to a lit gig. Michael Parzymieso launched his first book, “The Dale” and had a warm intro from Nicole Hebdon. Today is Saturday and twenty-five years ago it was a Wednesday when Husband and I got married. (That’s a long time, isn’t it?) Anyway, so, there it is, a recap of this….

OH! I nearly forgot! Mucho mega thank yous to Kim Chinquee for including my story “Just One More Thing” in the Endurance Issue of Elm Leaves Journal. My beautiful contributor copy arrived! I truly am honored to have my work included among so many talented writers. The amount of care Kim puts into each issue as well as her classes and training is awe-inspiring. Seriously – thank you, Kim.     

On to the Facebook Saga:

Half paying attention, I opened Facebook one night and scrolled to find a pop up saying I couldn’t “like” a post, but I could leave a comment. Weird, right? So, I went through the settings and signed out of devices and created a new password. They sent a code to do this, and I then got an email saying it was all set, and I was good to go. A minute later, I got a nasty message saying I’d violated a community standard and I have 180 days to appeal. No warning sent that I’d posted a bad thing, no mention of what the violation was, no option to remove it.

In order to appeal whatever this charge is against me; I’d need to verify my humanhood on camera. While the one page says they keep the video for 30 days, further reading shows it is a year and really, I’m supposed to believe they’d erase it in 365 days? Right. This abusive treatment came about while I’m reading “Careless People” by Sarah Wynn-Williams in which she gives examples of what a $hit person Mark Zuckerberg is to others. (I’m just past where he abandoned a member of his team in Jakarta.) Anyway, I have 169 days left to appeal, but I feel no need to give the weirdo programmers my current image to warp into fake videos, so I guess we’ll have to find another way to stay in touch if our main contact is that advertising site. (Seriously, that’s another reason not to return – So. Many. Ads.)

 End of the boring origin story of my being basically silenced on a platform for…some reason.

Thank you for stopping by and for the read! I am reading Marie Kondo’s book but haven’t committed to it yet. The whole title is intimidating, “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese art of Decluttering and Organizing” but hey, it might make next month’s post succinct. Everything is possible. Have a great June and thank you again!

The Easter Bunny did not leave enough chocolate again this year

Things will happen a certain way and I’ll wonder if other artists have the same thing happen to them. I don’t ask because I’ve read their posts and flashes, stories and poems that have already told me the answer. Yes, it all happens all the time. It comes in waves. Tons of work getting published, then long stretches of comma rearrangement; long stretches to work but no inspiration or drive, then a week jammed packed with movement and tableaus to explore and little time to jot a note or sketch an outline.

The week I had included going to the Hamburg Library to attend a Lissa Marie Redmond event on a Monday night. I ran into Mary Jean Zajac there. Hannah from Writing Club attended, too. On Tuesday, it was Writing Club and I was reminded how far I have to go with the rewrite in making the text clearer. (And doing that while trying to remember the altered plotlines is what someone older than myself would call a “hoot.”) Wednesday I spent time at a mall with a woman I used to spend days at the mall with frequently and had at least 4 story ideas come up that day. Thursday, I helped a poet without realizing it was a poet I was helping at the parking kiosk. It was at Buffalo State and I was there to read for Drop Hammer from the upcoming (now out) Endurance Issue of Elm Leaves Journal. Theresa Wyatt, Nancy McCabe, Carol Townsend, and Jean Thompson read too at the invitation of ELJ’s editor, Kim Chinquee. Thank you, Kim! It was lovely and she took us out after for a meal at Cornelia, the restaurant in the renovated AKG. Kim has two (TWO!) books coming out soon – Contact with the Wild and Octopus Arms – congratulations Kim!

Friday, I ran errands and took the dog to the park. Saturday, we went to Buffalo with Betty in the rain and added our fed-up-with-this-dog-e-shit-slash-and-burn-policy voices to the Hands-Off Protest. It was cold, wet, and miserable, but it will be just as awful in an El Salvadorian concentration camp, you know?

Later, Husband and I went to see JT and the Law at Still on the Hill and my muted phone kept buzzing. The message came in out of order – the enormity of it all still stuns me. A friend I almost lost in a motorcycle accident two decades ago was in a near miss from a stolen Tesla that nearly killed him and his two children as they were on their way to an El Paso Easter Egg Hunt. Weirder still is that his wife, who came a bit later, medically attended to the person who had nearly wiped out her whole family.   

And that wasn’t even a full week of my April.

There is insurance paperwork piled up for me to read, reread, and attempt to understand. I was charged as a new patient when I was not and need to get that corrected before pulling out my hair. That right there is something to protest for – can you imagine? In other countries, healthcare is free – not for an insurance company to extract every penny in your pocket so they can have a profit and please their shareholders. Ffs, it’s people’s lives and those would be made healthier in an instant if universal healthcare – as found in most all other countries – came along and reduced everyone’s stress levels. But why would anyone in this administration care what would help anyone that isn’t them?

You see my dilemma – so much to write about, so behind on the minutia of daily life, so angry that the upcoming chaos could have been avoided. Plus, it’s criminal not to go out and acknowledge spring flowers like these while they are here, no?

Many thanks to you for stopping by and for the read. I cherish you in a weird way, but I think you already knew that because if you’re reading me, you’re probably a writer, too, so you know that kinship you feel when someone reads your words.

Cheers!

Bobbling

What a time to be alive…if we are alive. I’m leaning into the belief that Y2K was the end of earth and everything now is simply hell and because of fractals, the heat and stupidity is intensifying. If I’d studied math and science harder, I could draw up graphs to prove this. Instead, I write.

How are YOU doing? What are you doing to ease the constant stress? I’m into baths. I dump 2 cups of Epsom salts over a sprinkling of a ½ a cup of baking soda at the far end, dribble a few drops of lavender oil on top, then add hot water. When I submerge, effervesce tingles the back of my neck ala Calgon taking me away.

Sexton’s “Transformations” caught my eye, so I’ve pulled that off the shelf to reread when “They Were Her Property” by Stephanie E. Jones-Rogers gets too bleak. Kara Swisher’s “Burn Book” is nearly done, but the semi-coherent Elon in the book stands in contrast to the drug fueled maniac he now is in the White House – and lord help us all for what happened there today with Zelensky.

 I’m calling my reps, meeting on the downlow with the like-minded, and boycotting. After inventorying my unpublished pieces, I’ve been submitting – which means I’m getting rejected, but oh, a few of them have been from higher ups with “almost.”

And this prettiness hit my mailbox and made me so happy. Thank you Kim Chinquee!

So it’s all diving under water then shooting higher and harder with my work, encouraging other writers in real life and online, graciously accepting criticism when it comes politely (Thank you Rina Fosati!) while bobbling along in this surreal timeline, occasionally baking and drinking A LOT of tea. (If you haven’t tried it yet, I recommend Yogi brand Stress Relief with Kava and the Dandelion Root Detox varieties.)

May all your endeavors be fulfilling and your Granny Smith apples be green. Thank you for stopping by and for the read!

New Years Eve, Balls, and Possible Snow

Greetings from this side of 2024 where blanked on writing a blog post until after 7:30pm. I hope you are well where you are – and washing your hands with soap to prevent spreading infections. (If only PAs in Roswell’s Urology Department would do the same – and mask ffs. Yes Irene, I’m looking at you) The bird flu has me worried as the Norovirus runs through western New York with no end in sight. Good times!

The past month was spent doing the holiday cookie joy and I rolled and dipped enough balls to remember how much I must care for people – at least the people who had cookies sent or delivered to them. Besides the few days between Thanksgiving and Christmas this year, there were multiple doctor and dentists visits and even a writing session with Kathy Fish.  I also had to shovel multiple times because this of all years needed provide prime lake effect conditions – with even more in the forecast.

Husband has made more progress on the ceiling and the once red table and leaves are done – covered now with a marble design.

So are the chairs.

The Holiday cards and letter went out and we had a visit from Texans this weekend which was the “last thing” before I could relax, and today, I did…which may be why I forgot to write this until now.

This year resulted in 135 submissions – not as many as I’d hoped, but enough.

Thank you:

Jeff Harvey for accepting “Hearts Compounded” for Gooseberry Pie Issue 12.

Geoffrey Miller at NUNUM for accepting “Spiders Everywhere” and nominating it for Best Microfiction.

Hema Nataraju , Lakshmi Iyer, Melissa Llanes Brownlee at Literary Namjooning for loving “How It’s Done” and presenting it so beautifully.

Tamara Burross Grisanti at Coffin Bell – the one place I saw “There’s No Such Thing as a Free Meal” finding a home – and it did.

Ben The Drevlow at BULL whose edits for “Not Everyone Dreams of La La Land” made it shine for the print issue.

Tabi at Litmora for taking “Blooming” and inviting me to Fredonia’s Literary Festival

And Kim Chinquee. Wow. Thank you for accepting “Brilliance” “No Object” and “Shoo Bird” for the gorgeous Eclipse Issue of Elm Leaves Journal – and for the Pushcart nomination.

What a year in publishing- as I determine it from 11/30/2023 to 11/30/2024! Now on to the next – and soon!

Thank you for stopping by and for the read. Cheers!

Celebrating, Ceilings, and Sky Things

It’s all ups and downs, isn’t it? I live in a bubble of beauty and cannot believe it expanded like this. I had seen Julie Tuttle’s painting at the Colden Arts Festival and loved it. I told her the optimal dimensions I wanted the print to be, but it wouldn’t work so instead of a print, I now have an original painting, and it makes me so happy to walk into the office and see this. Thank you, Julie!

I voted early and on the morning of November 5th, I saw the most unusual rainbow in the sky over my home. Boy, did I misunderstand that sign. Luckily, there is free will, a list of goals, and block buttons on social media, so I’ve been busy.

The Halloween decorations were put away and the Christmas boxes came down. Thanksgiving came late and is over but for the soup and last piece of pecan pie. The first batch of fudge is made and soon to be cut. I was supposed to have the holiday letter written by now, but there was a whole night lost until the Hazmat unit arrived then left the house. During all of this, I’ve been worried about Husband and the tests he has coming up. He’s helping me ignore the things I cannot change by beginning the long-delayed ceiling repair, so the goals I set have to navigate an obstacle course along with me and the never tired-out dog. It’s fun!

I mean, making art is hard enough – especially when you’re in the minutia – trading one word for another, considering a comma here or there or none, paragraph place switching. It’s too easy to pull out just enough to see your own insecurity, not the progress in the prose. From there, all it takes is seeing a “there” for “their” and I am disparaging my entire writing career and for having ever learned English.

From that whiny position last week, I began receiving remarkable news.  

First, many thanks to Yung Painkiller, the photographer who captured the pre-election happiness and peace in a picture of me and Kim Chinquee. In September, I attended An Evening with Percival Everett, part of the Buffalo Humanities Festival. He read from his novel, “James.” Congratulations to Mr. Everett for winning the National Book Award. Thank you, Kim, for inviting me and sending along the picture which is part of the event album!

Another huge thank you to Kim Chinquee for nominating me for the Pushcart Prize. That email arrived on a dark night when I was rethinking all my writing. I’d written to a friend about it and after fetching an envelope, I received that incredible nomination that was so kind and lovely, I cried.

But wait, there’s more. Barely had I received that honor, when another one arrived. Geoffrey at NUNUM has nominated “Spiders Everywhere” for Best Microfiction. (Here is a link to the interview which also went up this month.) Thank you, Geoffrey Miller! And thank you for stopping by and for the read. I know it can be a rough time of the year, so know I’m in your corner and I’m whispering, “Take care of you.” I hope you hear it.

Cheers!

The Prompt Witch

The Halloween decoration box came down from the closet after our company left and for the first time since Covid, I decorated with glee. I even picked up new light strands that were discounted at Lowe’s. They are fairy lights, so I’ll reuse them. The strand I already set up in the office ran through its set of patterns and when it reached the flashy bit, I used that as a prompt to pull my eyes away from the screen, so they are beneficial, too.

Speaking of prompts, today I was the Prompt Witch at Buffalo State for my co-appearance with the poet Karen J. Weyant for the Drop Hammer Series. I bought her book, “Avoiding the Rapture,” and so should you. Great turn out and fantastic questions! Thank you Kim Chinquee for the invitation – and an acceptance for the Endurance Issue of Elm Leaves Journal– and congratulations on your soon to be new releases!

The days have been uncharacteristically pleasant, so I’ve been trying to soak in the beauty while taking care of outside tasks that don’t need to be done, but being inside in such nice weather feels like a crime. I resented being sent outside as a child since I had books and comfortable places to sit inside, now I’m compelled.

The writing continues though the pace is uneven. I’ve restarted keeping a small book to tally my accomplishments each week. There used to be a lively board on Zoetrope called Friday Fess-Up where people would list their S,R, and A’s (submissions, rejections, and acceptances.) I’ve got three S’s, an R, and an A so far, which isn’t too shabby, but I can do better, so off I go to do that…or take a nap.

Spreading the magic of story is tiring work. I loved doing it today, and if you were there, thank you!

Thank you for stopping in for the read!

It’s hard to chart your progress if you don’t know where you’re aiming

At the beginning of the year in a Nancy Stohlman class, I dreamed a few dreams and wrote them out as 10-year goals. Those were divided into smaller ones, which were divvied up further so I now have a printed out list of what needs to be done by quarter, with a monthly checklist of things to do in each.  I’m happy to report it is going well despite my occasional forays into freak-outs when there are any curve balls thrown my way. For whatever reason, I respond well to lists. This new structure has also freed me of some of my worry, but not my anxiety. To ease that between acupuncture appointments, I’ve made the upper greenhouse whiter with paint and returned a few of the plants early from their usual summer hang out on the patio. Opening any window lets in the babble of the creek. Sometimes there’s a breeze. In the morning, the light is even more dazzling than this.

As with the past few summers, getting back to the labyrinth hasn’t happened as often as I would have preferred, so this space serves as a calming spot where I drink tea, eat apples, and lately, edit. I didn’t think this was where I’d be, but I embrace it. Having the year-end accomplishment list I made was a heavy lift because I aimed for acceptances with print. As of now, I have had work appear in two that I can already hold in my hand in June. Trust me, it’s extra thrilling because both include work from fellow writers I love and respect. Again and again and again, thank you Kim Chinquee for inclusion in Elm Leaves Journal’s Eclipse Issue and thank you to The Drevlow for accepting my piece for Issue 11 of Bull. (Look at those covers. I’d buy them even if I weren’t in them.) The year isn’t over, but with that spectacular success crossed off, I’m on to the next ones.

The book edit I did earlier this spring sat for weeks. I returned and have been correcting it at a line edit/add a red herring here/downplay this, but mention it hard enough to be memorable stage of editing. (And by the way, may I offer apologies to all my poor beta readers who read even part of this mess. Especially Chel! I am so sorry I didn’t know how to make it better in an earlier draft!) I did think this read through would have me patting myself on the back for the clever bits, and there were a few, but in this draft, it’s apparent it needs more fine-tuning and craft. (I read, learn more, and then take scissor blades to phrases I’ve refused to cut in previous drafts. Killing your darlings can be gruesome and brutal – especially when you set the cuttings on fire to warm your soul with their flame…but maybe that’s just me and my editing style.)  

Anyway, the problem is that I have perfectionist tendencies and could spend the next thirty years on two sentences if I wanted to, but if I want to reach the goals on my list, I can’t. So while I’m not going fast, I’m striving for this version to be the good enough draft which will aid me in the next step, but I also want it to be over already. Last night I ran into another area I wanted to cut and paste into a better flow, but allowed myself to rest instead of delving into that messy spot when it was nearly midnight. Today, refreshed, I’m going to tackle other things. The weather of western New York decides the flow of which work is tackled and when. Besides writing, there is wood. I’ve been putting up what I split and stacked last year. As another row in the shed gets filled, I am happily in awe. All the time spent last year working on splitting is paying off and for that, I’m grateful. Though I itch to finish the book, I visit the white room and calmly remind myself there will be other days where I’ll want to stay in from the heat or days when it’s too rainy, and move on to the next task with less worry. A change in perspective helps, and sometimes you see chipmunks hanging upside down, too.

Besides the enormous help I feel I received from Nancy’s course, goals aren’t met without hard choices being made. There’s a meme without attribution I saw somewhere and I liked it so much I wrote it down to remind myself of its truth: Marriage is hard. Divorce is hard. Choose your hard. Obesity is hard. Being fit is hard. Choose your hard. Being in debt is hard. Being financially disciplined is hard. Choose your hard. Communicating is hard. Not communicating is hard. Choose your hard. Life will never be easy. It will be always be hard, but we can choose our hard. Pick wisely. ~Proper accreditation to be placed here if I ever find it.

Early on in our relationship, Husband and I decided to follow the cliché of saving for a rainy day which helped when the roof was damaged, and now, for this.

Of course the calculated time saved on working on the broken tractor has been transferred to wagon problems, but I’m focusing on the good parts, here. He can now mow the lawn and leave me out of that chore altogether so I have more time to edit and notice the beautiful surprises like a mountain laurel in bloom. I didn’t plant it, but I happily share this unexpected delight from Mother Nature. Isn’t it pretty?

I’m also happy to report Bertie graduated her first round of obedience course. Here’s our happy grad, just before eating her mortise board.

So yes, there is slow, steady, sloggy progress going on here. We’re making choices and enjoying the side benefits. After I post this, I’m going to pick fresh, ripe and sun warmed blackberries from bushes I transplanted last year to a more convenient spot, where happily, they took.

May all your goals be possible to reach and all your roots grow deep. Thank you for stopping by and for the read!

Out of the Attic and into the Garden

Ah, novel rewriting, what a treat. If you’ve not enjoyed the process, may I suggest not having most of the action in your book take place in an attic? As I sat in the corner of the library, typing, fixing, adding, and cutting to get this novel even better than it was, I swear I developed claustrophobia.

I’m tearing myself out of that mindset by digging dirt. The first spring after started the no till garden idea? Clear delineation of where I was able to use the garden weasel to rid the area of dandelions by the root vs. where the cages were and I could not weed. Seeing that I didn’t have as much work as I thought I’d have, I went to a nursery to buy plants and zap – randomly ran into fellow WNY writer, Christina Abt.

Zucchini, yellow squash, cucumbers, bush beans, peas, jalapeno, and green pepper plants are in the ground and -knock on wood- semi-slug protected by copper. The twelve holes for the Roma and Heinz tomato plants are dug and after dinner tonight, I could be done with the planting. Yesterday, I made thirty-two thin pancakes for the enchiladas. I made a big tin of fudge nut bars that need to be cut. With proper portioning and freezing, this is how I am buying future time.

Time runs faster once June hits. I might be camping in the Alleghenies with Kim Chinquee and Nancy McCabe in a few weeks. I might be weeding. I look forward to popping in to spend time with Rina Fosati again soon. If Husband and I make it to 7pm, we’ll have been married 24 years today. A new riding lawnmower may be our mutual anniversary gift, which you must admit beats the hell out of the sump pump we went and bought on my birthday a few years back. I’ve had some nice rejections, does this precede acceptances in the coming days? Only the flowers know.

White peony in bloom, trees in sunlight in background

Speaking of flowers, did I mention “Blooming” made it into Litmora’s third issue? This flash is how “Near Eden, New York,” a previous novel I wrote, begins. Gooseberry Pie did me a solid by including “Hearts Compounded” in its 12th issue. Do check out other pieces from the one – or a previous issue. Six sentences? Come on, you have time to read one or two, don’t you?

Reading is an exercise I’ve been doing less than Pilates these days. Sometimes a break from words is needed, so I’m taking a short one to enjoy my day.

Please enjoy the day you’re having. Thank you so much for stopping by and for the read!

Cheers!

Sometimes life is so crazy it looks like a dog with a cigar

I thought March was spectacular and then April came around. Sure, I had another birthday, which is fine, I guess, but eh the “aging” bit could go. I did receive amazing gifts of love through words, deeds, FB posts, flowers, and even presents. Thank you all and here is the picture of the cake I honestly would have shared with you had you dropped in at the time:

The 5th had me in Buffalo for a workshop where I had the opportunity to reconnect with members of my old writing group that met in Hamburg at the Comfort Zone and pitched the novel I’m rewriting to an agent. She gave me her card and told me to query her when it was done, so in the parlance of that structure, it was a victory. I’d no more than spun around and it was time for the solar eclipse. We did it up in style.

Friends from Chicago arrived and we had dinner with them and the amazing Tuttle clan. Friday, the 12th, thankyouthankyou Kim Chinquee hosted the Elm Leaves Eclipse Launch where not only was I listed as special guest and ELJ Contributor on the posters, I read with her talented students, but also with Rachel L. Johnson and Justin Karcher. Seriously, if you know anything about the Buffalo Lit scene, you know reading with Justin is a Buffalo bucket list must do and I did it. Thank you to everyone who was a part of the launch! AND my niece Ashley showed up  – as well as the couple from Chicago as a surprise, which it truly was, Thank you Robert and Theresa. Because of Kim, there are pictures of this incredible event. Thank you!

Thank you Kim also for another wondrous Drop Hammer. This month, it was Nancy McCabe. I’ve got her, “Can This Marriage Be Saved?” on my to be read pile. After she read from new work, there was discussion and food. Carol – and I’m sorry I don’t recall her last name – led us to a gallery in the AKG open to the public. Before and After Again, the current exhibit of artwork, prose, and poetry by the Buffalo-based Julia Bottoms, Tiffany Gaines, and Jillian Hanesworth is incredible. The depth of the portraits and the food images, as well as the prose and hope in the seeds – a truly moving tribute to those lost, but also to those who still live in the area of the Tops shooting and the tentacles of how food deserts compound misery.

I don’t know if any of that is right, art is subjective after all, and I really liked this lamp made by Henry.

That was another experience I was graced to experience. I’d gotten an acceptance at Litmora, which led to my trying to work that in at the launch, and there was an invitation by the editor to attend the Fredonia Literary Festival, and so I did. Completely interesting and fun, plus it turned out that both Henry and Tabi are from Springville. How cool is that? It’s even cooler because Tabi (moderator in the first pic) also has ties to the town where my grandmother lived.

I’m grateful to be here. Western NY is such a lovely spot filled with great souls and flash writers like Rina Fosati. When I went to visit her, I came across a free lawnmower that Husband is falling in love with more with each pull of the cord. I am blessed beyond measure and if you’re reading this, you are the part of the wonder in this universe. Thank you for being that.

Thank you for stopping by and for the read ❤ Enjoy your May!

Fertile Underground

Hi. According to my camera roll, for the past two weeks, I’ve only existed in the past. On Valentine’s Day, I took pictures of the three roses Husband brought home for me – without prompting or any sort of reminder – but didn’t post them. Before that? No pictures since the last blog post.

If I have been there, in the past, I’ve resurfaced in more ways than one. Floating on my back today, the wind and rain mimicked an ocean. I looked down at my feet and saw the swirly black sands of a place in the Adirondacks where I dared to go swimming – or at least I walked in up to my knees. W, Husband’s twin, in a blue cap, sat back near the trees. Husband stood between us on the dry rippled sand. I was back with Vonnie on a past perfect pre–Y2K February day at the Atlantic. Seashells near the pier were mostly shards. Walking alone for a stretch, I felt the surging power on my legs, the grip. I imagined other beaches, mostly tan, but some pink, some white, and then I think I worked on my chakras.

Anyway, I started a course of acupuncture when I could no longer carry the weight I had on my shoulders.

The first session, I was anxious and apprehensive, but so willing to try anything for relief that I was willing to pay in cash for it until the new insurance sent out a “wellness card.” [Why yes, I DID meditation and Pilates and Yoga and STOP. My body, my choices and it worked.]

Of course it could be a placebo effect, true, but I had listened to a segment of People’s Pharmacy on NPR where a – white, I assume – man had discovered this network of membranes connecting the organs and tissues that no one had ever noticed before (eye roll emoji) and had written a paper and was ready to go to a conference when he finally talked to somebody else and – surprise- the wise man said, “Yeah, that’s the chi. Been telling you nit wit westerners for how long?  But sure, you discovered it.”

And then I heard that – what I assume was a white – man admit how damned dumb he – and countless others were by wasting research grant money all because they wouldn’t listen – or hear – or try to understand what acupuncture was all about. Boom. There. Click, click. The tension in my back was from a chi blockage. I knew it. My fear of needles fell away and I made an appointment.

Today was the fourth session, and the first on my back. (I asked for people with a larger bra size than mine about spending 50 minutes uncomfortably, and Dr. Cara assured me she has a pillowy solution, so don’t let that detour you.) The shoulder pain had nearly disappeared after the second session. I’m continuing to address other issues and I’m keeping notes on the experiences, but I do want to mention that a few hours after the first time, I felt an actual shift. It was brief and intense, but so real. As if to bolster the truth of the feeling, the universe rearranged people’s schedules so now I’m not going alone to the Writers Conference of Northern Appalachia. The Bitchy Cheerleaders – novel critique group of yore – are all going to be there – knock on wood and pray for good weather. So, that’s what is going on with me. I hope you’re doing this well, too. Thank you for stopping by and for the read. (Oh – and I hope to share things to read with you soon. I’m writing. I’m editing. I’m submitting. I’m all sorts of shiny happy for my beta rock goddess, Rina Fosati. I feel wonderful and really hope you do, too.) Cheers and good tidings!