Warning!! The following contains references to UPCHUCK! For those of you who are squeamish, stop reading NOW!

So I got violently ill this week. Food poisoning was what I suspected at the time. I'm grateful to report that the idea of being the victim of a sinister terrorist plot did not enter my head until just now. In actuality, it was probably garden variety stomach flu, but drama queen and control freak that I am, I of course thought I'd characteristically poisoned myself with a five month old chicken marinade that I simply HAD TO reuse because I'd spent the afternoon getting my taxes ready and discovered to my horror that I habitually spend about $1000 more than I make every month. Such is the life of a folksongwriter who likes books and clothes and massages. So when I cut up my fresh farm raised chicken breasts and laid them out on the baking pan, opened my fridge and found the suspicious marinade, I naturally exclaimed, "Can't waste THAT!"

Twelve hours later I was pretty recalcitrant and shameful and full of apologies to myself. But then I stayed sick with a fever of 107 for a few days and perhaps in retrospect the poisoned marinade was a harmless red herring.

Meanwhile, Katryna spent her first night away from ten and a half month old Amelia and lived to tell the tale. She and I went to Madison and St. Louis this weekend, flying in to Chicago Friday afternoon, driving the two hours up to our favorite college town and then driving south Saturday, watching spring color the Midwestern landscape all afternoon. It was almost completely gray in Wisconsin, then a graygreen in Illinois, growing greener and greener til we crossed the Mississippi and were dazzled by thousands of daffodils. Katryna likes the traditional all yellow variety with the long horns. I like the dainty ones with light yellow petals on the outside and burnt gold insides, whose faces look smashed in, like pugs' or Persian cats' noses.

Also, while in Madison, Joel cooked us edamame and quinoa with bok choy, c arrots and snow peas. Katryna discovered she likes mango.

While at the airport rental return waiting for the bus, Katryna made up a song and danced around. I, still weak and recovering, slapped my knee and stomped my foot while remaining seated on my guitar case. But I did put down my mug of tea in order to slap my knee.

We got Lucky Magazine about which you can at least say that it is unabashedly honest; rather than pretend anything otherwise, it declares itself The Magazine For Shopping. We read an article called "Test Your Face Powder's Personality," and answered such questions as, "If your face powder were an accessory, what would it be?
a. a handbag
b. a cashmere sweater
c. flowers for your hair.

If you answered
a. that means you are a TIME TRAVELER!
If b., you are SENSITIVE!
If c. you are a FLOWER CHILD!

What a relief to finally know for sure.

Other than Lucky, I read Alice Munro short stories from her amazing new collection called Hateship, Friendship, Loveship, Courtship, Marriage. Also Self Magazine, Newsweek, Us on the post Oscar dresses, and Katryna's diary. Katryna read much of the above and did logic puzzles. We napped and stopped at Whole Foods and considered buying some hyacinth plants, but remembered in time that we had to fly home.

Rarin' to go for our Iron Horse shows, as well as the Waitsfield, VT this Friday, the three NYC area shows next week (Fez on 4/17 and 19; Towne Crier on 4/20 and my beloved New Haven on Sunday afternoon, 4/21.)

Hey, Emily is totally kicking ass. She's our publicist. We're going to be on this PBS show called Egg The Art Show which is the best TV show I've ever seen. Good excuse for Katryna and me to dandy up. Meanwhile, it's in the high 50's this week; I got to turn my heat off, and I made a bet with Katryna that I'll no longer need to wear my burdensome winter parka until November. Enjoy those flowers.

Love, Nerissa
Ps - It is possible my fever was 100.2 not 107

© 2002, reproduced with permission