So a thing happened to me yesterday afternoon that I cannot tell you about for a few days . . . which I understand is an annoying teaser and you have every right to be irritated, but my thoughts have been so occupied by the surprise, pleasure, nerves, and elegy linked to this news that I can't refrain from acknowledging my state of mind. Fortunately I'll be busy today: finishing an editing project (I hope), dashing out for a haircut, then talking to Teresa about Aurora Leigh. In Florida we agreed in passing that we were moved and excited by the poem, but we didn't have any chance to talk more intently about what we were seeing. I'm looking forward to finding out what brilliant thoughts she's uncovering.

Otherwise, I'm still kind of hobbled by my sore back, though it's better than it was, and my nose still won't stop running, and Chuck is trying to drink my coffee, and I've got to haul trash to the curb or get Tom to do it for me if that chore turns out to be a dumb idea for my injury. But maybe at some point today I'll also have a chance to look at the draft-blurt in my notebook--the first new poem draft I've written for weeks. It was so good to get back to work with the poets last night. How I love my writing group. That is a thing I never thought I'd say, back in the days when I was a proud solitary in the woods. But these poet-friends make Portland a sort of Eden.