Poem Published!

With the exception of my college literary magazine, this is my first published poem. I'm so excited I could pee. However, the topic at hand is more serious than what I've written about so far. The poem is called "The First Cooking Accident," and I wrote it after reading some anonymous first-hand accounts by Afghan women on a Web site called Afghan Women's Writing Project, and watching several news reports on the matter.

Read the poem here.

Team Bella

I've been seduced. I am a fallen woman.

But it's not what you think. Let me explain: I haven't done anything to betray my husband, rather it's my former literary elitism from which I've strayed. I am a fallen literary snob.

I'm reading the Twilight series.

I'm sorry, English degree. You tried to instill a set of proper, pretentious literary morals, but they wore off. I need a break from tortured memoirs and insightful novels that tenderly reveal the human condition. I want suspense, unlikely love triangles and mythical creatures. Heroic vampires and loyal werewolves. A little sex would be nice, but Edward and Bella haven't gotten there yet. I'm just starting book four.

Which brings me to the dilemma that confronts any Twilight fan like a pop quiz. Team Edward or Team Jacob? Who should Bella choose?

I'm here to offer a third option. Neither, or Team Screw This. While I am completely involved in the story - to the point where Jon looks at me warily when I'm reading and says, "Who ARE you?" - Edward and Bella are getting on my nerves. The whole you have NO IDEA HOW MUCH YOU MEAN TO ME thing is out of control. My god, let that girl sleep by herself. I feel suffocated just reading about their relationship (although that doesn't hinder the furious pace I'm tearing through the books with).

Maybe it's because I was in an obsessive relationship years ago (though I would not call him the love of my life), but I want a book with an alternate ending - in which Bella gets a grip. She could even borrow some of the activities that wound up helping ME grow into myself and find some confidence. I can see it now: Bella joins the cast of The Vagina Monologues and discovers her Inner Power. Suddenly, her vampire boyfriend seems overbearing and controlling. Needing space, Bella ditches Edward and jets off to Europe, where she learns to appreciate good wine and trust herself. The end.

Yeah, I know, that version wouldn't sell any copies, and actually sort of falls into the category of book that I'm currently avoiding. Letting go, letting go...

Deathbed

This past weekend, I found myself on my deathbed. At least, that's what it felt like. But according to Jon and my mom (and me now that I've mostly pulled through and can look back logically), it might have just been a cold.

But it was a really, really bad one. And the thing is, it's literally been years since I was sick enough to warrant bed rest (excluding that time I gave birth), so I didn't know what was happening to me. I twisted under the covers, either sweating or freezing. The aching was everywhere - my head and sinuses throbbed like trance music and my body felt like it had been crushed and then re-inflated.

I wondered if I would have to be hospitalized.

After I had Jon Google what kind of meds are compatible with breastfeeding, I asked him to look up the symptoms for swine flu. He figured out the meds, and later I realized we hadn't talked about swine flu, so I asked again.

"Oh," he checked my expression. "You were serious about that?"

"Yes," I clarified, annoyed by his lack of concern. "Just to be sure."

He started laughing. I was not amused.

"You'll be sorry when you have to drive me to the ER," I said. "Let's just check."

"Baby, you've got a cold. People get colds." But he was already pulling out his laptop.

"The last case of swine flu in Georgia was in May," he reported momentarily. I was not soothed, and spent the rest of the weekend worrying that my condition would worsen and what would happen to Gavin and Jon if I died.

I come by this worrywart behavior honestly, though - I think the tendency was there just waiting to be activated, inherited from my mom. She is the queen of worrywarts. One time, around ten years ago before everyone had a cell phone, in Sarasota, Florida, my mom and her friend dropped me, my siblings and my boyfriend off somewhere by the marina. (I'm not sure where we went. My memory says it was a bird sanctuary, but that would have been an unlikely activity for our family.) At the time we were supposed to be meet Mom, we were close by but not at the designated pickup spot, and assumed that we would see her. We didn't. She drove around with her friend, assuming they would see us. They didn't.

After a bit, we shrugged and went to the nearby Old Salty Dog for some french fries, occasionally glancing out at the parking lot. Meanwhile, my mom had come to the conclusion that we had been abducted by aliens. You might think that I added the aliens part, but I didn't. Mom remembers reasoning that nobody would be able to wrestle me, my siblings, and my boyfriend into a car all at once.

Well, nothing human.

"What other explanation is there?" she recalls demanding of her friend, who eventually caught Mom's hysteria, agreeing in horror, "You're right! There really doesn't seem to be any other explanation!"

It would be funnier if I could be certain I'll never be that bad.