Wednesday again

Yesterday I talked with Cookie Fields on the phone, about the poetry readers' group meeting. She told me all about her illness, and about Gail Whitten's illness and recovery. Then that evening I went to the meeting at the Arts Council, and was happy to see Gail and Joe, and Cookie herself, seemingly fully recovered. Joe seemed to have gained a lot of weight. I read some of the old Alabama limericks, and the new Old Head poem. India came to the meeting, also, and read a new poem, then later stopped by my house to use my printer for a project.

Sherry Whisenhunt came with a limp and a cane. After the meeting I asked her what happened, and she sort of snapped a word at me, then started talking to someone else, but I didn't understand what she said. I don't mean that she snapped at me: that's just the way she talks. Cookie had read a poem about a man with a peg leg, and I had told about Mr. Gallons with his wooden leg, and I guess that was still on my mind, because while Sherry was talking, I carefully looked at her feet (in strappy sandals) and counted her toes, just to make sure.

While I was gone to the meeting, I got a book sale on Amazon, only the 7th sale this month. That's so odd: One month I'll sell 3-4 books a week, then another month not many more than that all month. It's a conspiracy. Ho hum.