I hate to do social things on Sunday evening. We get up very early on Monday so I can get the laundry started before my assistant arrives. It’s a long busy day and by the time Penny leaves, I’m exhausted. It was a good party, one with much food and drink, many people and an unwanted present swap. I brought home a bed table, but unfortunately it was missing a piece and promptly fell apart. I never bring broken things to that annual event, but other people obviously do. It’s kind of cheesy. I bring things people have given me that are good but not my style or not useful to me.
Anyhow, I was fine the next day and worked hard with Penny. We finished, added up and sent off all the seeds orders except one. But Tuesday night I woke @ 2:30 coughing uncontrollably and with a fever starting. I couldn’t sleep after that as my head became congested, I kept being racked by a terrible deep cough and I couldn’t breathe unless I sat up. I have been sick ever since. The worst day was Wednesday when I was too weak to go down the steps, ran 101.2 fever couldn’t speak and keep nodding out. I couldn’t keep anything down.
Wednesday was marginally better. Fever by evening at 100.4. Could speak softly and was able to think again. John Braden sent me the regional poems for the WOMR Jose Gouveia contest. I was able to start reading them, slowly but intelligently. Before that my brain was mush. I managed to sleep some that night. Friday was the first day I was able to get dressed, in loose clothes but at last out of my nightgown. I go through a couple of nightgowns a night as I am sweating out my fever. I am able to eat again, although not much. I can’t seem to drink at all. I tried to cook dinner, simple, salmon, brown rice and asked Woody to make a salad. I managed it but it was difficult for such a simple dinner.
The regional submissions are of a higher caliber this year. I’m having trouble just choosing a first, second and third prizes and seven runners-up. There’s not a lot I can do –but reading is one of the few things I can accomplish. I wanted to have lunch with my friend Gigi today but I can’t talk much yet. I’m still coughing from the bottom of my lungs, although less often, and don’t want to pass on what I caught at the party. The hostess got sick also. I’m trying not to give it to Woody. My own work is out of the question at the moment.
I missed all the warm wonderful weather. I had planned to walk, but obviously, I’m not about to go anywhere.
Xena who was adamantly queen of the cats is acting coy and flirtatious with Schwartzie, who is almost her size although mostly long and lean. They spend a lot time lying staring at each other. They play and today they began to wrestle. I think people learned wrestling moves from cats. I just finished Zadie Smith’s SWING TIME. I enjoyed it but was a bit disappointed by the ending, that felt forced.
A woman from my workshop some years ago who has published a lot since, Gail Gehicken, a very fine poet, most years sends us fruit from her own trees. No pecans this year but lots of citrus fruit. It’s especially appreciated this time of years when there is so little good fruit in stores.