I missed blogging last Sunday, which was the day following the 3-day whirlwind of AWP. By Sunday I was sick with a cold and fever and exhaustion. That was also the day I drove from Tampa to Miami to visit my son and his family, before driving back to Tampa on Tuesday to catch a plane back to Seattle, to then to drive home to Sequim, and get up on Wednesday to go to work. I get furious with people who come to work sick, but there I was, over-medicated and wearing a mask, seeing patients. I like to boast that I never get colds, obviously untrue, even with seeing patients in clinic all day who come in with one bug or another. It is true that I rarely get sick, for which I am enormously grateful, but should stop boasting about.
My secret weapon against ordinary viruses is sleep. I get 8-9 hours of good sleep most night of the week. I also add cinnamon to my coffee and use echinacea tincture at the first sign of a cold. The cinnamon trick comes from a story I’ve heard that during the 1918 Flu epidemic, which killed members of my own family, the folks working at the cinnamon factory in NYC, suffered remarkably few flu deaths.
I am feeling better today. Which brings me to AWP itself, almost forgotten in the tumult of travel and the misery of an ordinary cold. This was my third year attendin
g AWP for my press, Headmistress Press, where I sell our Books and Lesbian Poet Trading Cards and put temporary tattoos that read “Lesbian Poet” onto body parts of strangers who stop by. I always miss all the good stuff, but I was able to attend a couple of off-site events in the evenings and hear poetry read by some of my favorite poets.
Feeling so run down by travel (this was my third trip in three months) it would be tempting to say I won’t go to AWP next year. But it’s in Portland in 2019. Nothing will keep me from being there and catching the Pacific NW vibe at AWP. See yous guys there next year, I hope!