Storm and all its terrors are nothing to the heart's despair

My poem "The Ceremony of Innocence" has been accepted by Mythic Delirium. It is not quite the dream I had once about Benjamin Britten setting the poems of Rudyard Kipling, but I'm still giving it points for timing since I just sang three of Britten's folksongs this afternoon at Music to Cure MS. "O Waly, Waly," "The Last Rose of Summer," "The Lincolnshire Poacher." I think I was better at rehearsal on Thursday night. (I had a very fine Halloween party on Friday evening. Friday morning, I was in crying pain from both ears, and Friday afternoon I spent waiting to see a doctor. I have an ear infection for the first time I can remember in my adult life. I'm on antibiotics for it, which never treat me well. Saturday was pretty much nonexistent until the evening, when I met gaudior and rushthatspeaks for the last night of Tomes of Terror—in short, there were some very nice things about the last couple of days, but they've also been exhausting.) I am nonetheless very glad that I did it. My high school voice teacher was in the audience and said I sounded good. The raffle ticket I bought won me a haircut I'm never going to use. And my accompanist spontaneously offered to hook me up with a paying klezmer gig. The usual weirdness prevails, apparently. Worth it.

And now to make a last-minute supermarket run against the storm.