Posts Tagged "Rainier Writing Program"

My Wobbly Bicycle, 78

Posted by on Aug 20, 2014 in Archive | 8 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 78

I was supposed to meet the van at 3:45 a.m., coming back from my teaching residency. I heard a knock, thought it might be something upstairs above me, checked the peep-hole and saw nothing, went back to bed. A few minutes later, a fierce pounding on the door. This time I opened it. There was Kent, my colleague, frantic. “Fleda, the van is here! You were supposed to be downstairs 15 minutes ago!” Watch me throw on my clothes. Watch me sweep my things into my bag. Watch me stumble to the van, wild hair, no makeup, belt in my hand. I’d mis-set my clock. Chemo-brain, I guess. Stuff like...

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My Wobbly Bicycle, 63

Posted by on Feb 26, 2014 in Archive | 3 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 63

Here I am, stuck at home recovering from the dreaded shingles, while 14,000 of my dearest friends are having a party in Seattle. They’re wining and dining and schmoozing and lobbying and jockeying and laughing. And wining and dining, did I say that? I have learned to love AWP (the Association of Writers and Writing Programs) and their annual convention. Well, sort of love. I always leave home saying, “Why Oh Why Am I Going?” and I come home saying, “Let me tell you what happened on Thursday! And about this amazing reading! Guess who I had breakfast with? etc.” I used to go to meet...

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My Wobbly Bicycle, 45

Posted by on Oct 16, 2013 in Archive | 10 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 45

The hair thing.  I can pinch my “bangs” between thumb and forefinger. At the back, hair’s about twice as long. I try a hairbrush and see a slight difference. Not much, but it’s coming along. It feels like healing. That’s the wonderful thing about hair. The more of it, the better I am. From the front, it’s cute, but from the sides and back—of course I stand with a mirror and study it—it’s still plastered to my head in a way that isn’t flattering. [None of MY hair in these photos. They’re all from the book launch. I wanted you to see them.] Upside: my hair may grow...

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My Wobbly Bicycle, 37

Posted by on Aug 21, 2013 in Archive | 10 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 37

It’s been a cool summer, for the most part. We’ve spent a number of evenings in front of the fireplace in the big cottage—at one time six grandchildren, their parents, and Jerry and me (the others had come earlier). My press had sent me a carton of 25 advance copies of my new book of poems, No Need of Sympathy. The book is dedicated to my grandchildren, and I wanted each child to have a copy. But the sequence called “The Grandmother Sonnets,” one for each child, are not children’s poems. They deal with complex emotions, often alluding to difficult situations, often from my own...

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My Wobbly Bicycle, 26

Posted by on May 29, 2013 in Archive | 41 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 26

The doctor’s office just called. My platelet count is down to 40 (normal is 150-400). They warned me to be careful with knives, not to operate a chain saw, etc.) I said I wouldn’t. I may have another blood test before the weekend. My hemoglobin is way low also. I am so tired I got dressed this morning and flopped down on the bed in exhaustion from the effort. I sat down three times changing our king-sized bed on Sunday. I sat and read all day yesterday, including an hour-long nap. Walking up stairs makes me huff and puff. I also feel icky. “Icky,” in case you’re not sure, means...

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