Friday, the yard smelled like March, that mix of thaw and bloom that made no sense in January. But a few days later, it is February, and March with bulbs and tubers putting out small shoots isn’t far. Of course, some bulbs already sprung, tricked by the weather, only to freeze green overnight. The blizzard came and went.
Meanwhile, my brother went to the White House. He says he actually went to the building next to the West Wing, The Eisenhower, but really, it is the White House.
I was interviewed by Sima Mishra, a writer from Princeton, NJ for the AWP Writer’s Chronicle, which appeared this month. The magazine is usually found in MFA in Fiction dept. offices but I hope it goes on-line. Sima and I spent a long time conversing over many sessions, and we discuss what it means to be South Asian, female, and to write.
Jenna Schwartz invited me to contribute to her online group, The Roar Sessions, and I wrote about, as Jenna rightly says, mean girls and the promise of menopause:
A good start to this Leap Year.