There's a mystery I read years ago in which a woman is murdered by someone she made a point of visiting in spite of being sick.

At the moment, I wholly sympathize with the killer. My head feels like a mess of half-scrambled eggs and my stomach's protesting the gallon of hot lemonade I've downed since yesterday. The calendar casualties include a lunch, a meeting, and a rehearsal so far. [rest of rant redacted]

So. I've a new post up at Vary the Line, today's mail included a postcard from rawlean (thank you, hon!), and last night I heard "darnedest all he" rhymed with "Walter Raleigh" (courtesy of Michael Feinstein singing Gershwin's "Anything for You").

One of my haiku received a commendation in this year's Klostar Ivanic competition, which meant it got translated into Croatian. (Glee! Especially since, if what Debbie Kolodji received last year is anything to go by, the anthology booklet will be pretty.)

Also, Dead Mule's "Let It Snow!" issue went live this morning. It includes the usual Southern Legitimacy Statements and four of my poems - "Deep and Crisp and Even," "Home Supper Home," "Glitter," and "Shavings."