Busy week, snip, etc.

All week I was reading the last 150 PP of the Collected Poems of Adrienne Rich. Yesterday I finished page 1119 at last. This week I need to start writing the critical essay I promised Tikkun almost three months ago. I am beginning to think about how to structure it. Winter weather is upon us. It’s colder than it’s been since last March and windy besides. We’re supposed to get a bit of snow Sunday night but they expect it to turn to rain before morning. I’m in no hurry for snow. We may get some that will stay later in the week. I took care of a lot of appointments this week. I went to the dentist, to Sara who cuts my hair and to the podiatrist. I also had the 2nd half of the massage my returning poets gave me as a present. Occasionally the workshops show their appreciation that way or one by a gift certificate from a local gardening center. Those tokens of appreciation are much appreciated. I like the masseuse they chose. Also it was time for Schwartzie to be altered as he’s begun to bite Willow’s neck frequently, especially when she’s trying to eat, and he once tried to mount her. Years ago we were sentimental about Jim Beam and put off getting him altered for a year and a half untii he had impregnated half of the female cats in Wellfleet. For years afterward, we would find pieces of furniture or clothing on which he had expressed himself. The longer you wait, we’ve discovered, to alter a male cat, the more likely he is to spray all over the house. The vet told us to replace our usual wheat litter with Yesterday’s News, shredded paper litter, while Schwartzie was healing his small incision. Woody drove to Orleans to buy the stuff. He filled all the boxes with it. Every single cat, included Schwartzie, refused to use it and pissed just beside the boxes. So in the morning Woody replaced the shredded paper litter with our usual wheat based litter – we use it because it’s compostable and smells far less than other litters – and the cats like it. That last is as we discovered rather important. Tomorrow Woody has to do most of the shopping for our annual Solstice party. We always do it on a Friday and the 16th was the best bet this year. We’re expecting around 35 guests. We’ll start cooking Thursday. I’ll start the cassoulet around noon on Thursday, we’ll cook a turkey breast that I’ll turn into a curried turkey salad Friday. Friday Melenie is driving from Hadley to cook with me. She’ll spend the night here. I’ll also make my triple chocolate pie on Thursday. The rest of the cooking I’ll do with Melenie on Friday and Woody will make his famous noodle kugel. I can’t seem to write anything but political poems since the election. I’ve produced five of them so far. Writing political poems requires just as much craft as writing poems bout irises or a lover. But I just can’t get my mind around any other subject yet. With every new awful appointment I get riled up anew and with every new hate crime or fascist graffiti, I am back stewing. Every day we wake to a deeper nightmare. To know it will only get worse for at least four years and perhaps eight only makes everything that much harder to encompass mentally and emotionally.     

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