It was a wonderful day yesterday. I've still got that inner glow of warm happiness in my belly. I was thrown out of bed at 5 a.m. by a raging bowel and a blinding headache. All I wanted was two advil but I checked the calendar and I have five more days before I can take any due to the probings and the scrapings of my esophagus and colon. Guess the doc left a couple raw spots. I fell back into bed and slept until 10. I'd have slept until noon were it not for our blog club lunch date. Now there are four of us who can play together: Cheryl, Karen, Kathy and ME. It was a wonderful. The four of us were so easy together, like old friends. You know how supportive we all are for each other in our comments. It was no different in person. I wonder if it's the role we have for each other as a blogging community.

I also finished a big project I've been working on this past week: Yale University posted a call for poetry written by young adults (under age 40). If you win the competition, they publish the poems in a beautiful book. I'm not a poet, and obviously over 40, but my friend Micki was. She died in July 2007 from complications of Lupus. She was 29 years old. I already had in my possession a disk of her poetry written between the ages of 13 and 27. All I needed to do was organize it, print it out, and add a little bio. Sifting through 70 pages of poems was a bigger task than just printing them. It took me a few late nights, some dinners out, and some neglected chores. I delivered the final package to Diane (Micki's mom) this morning. She wants to make some personal copies of it before she mails it. We worked together a couple of nights titling some of the poems and sorting out duplicates. Diane and I have been friends for 22 years, yet this project connected us in a new a profound way. She is so proud. It was a privilege for me to represent Micki and I was moved by the opportunity to have her poetry read and considered by the Yale Press. We won't hear anything from Yale until July, unless they just outright reject her based on the small fact that she is not alive. I couldn't care less. This was all about the process for me and it defined me in a new way. Narcissism does require a little balance.