Do you ever get that sensation where you’re pretty sure you’re going insane, but the little men in the walls have set up detour signs so the guys with the straight jackets never make it to you?
Just wondering.
I think I’m exempt from professional courtesy, but maybe there was a statute of limitation that no one told me about?
Coffee will fix it. *twitch* Coffee makes everything better. *fzzt*
Just found out via the LJ grapevine that dawnmarie died last week from a fatal seizure. I didn’t know her well, but we’d exchanged banter in passing at the last two Fantasms. I’m speechless.
Matthew’s asleep in the bedroom, looking quite charming all nestled in with the pillows, and Hobkin’s curled up on my lap, occasionally stretching his paws out in a stretch, skunk-purring, or otherwise doing cute. I’m taking a break from a critique-a-thon for Critters to write this LJ entry; I always try to earn an MPC every time I use one so I’ve got one in reserve in case of “emergencies” (I don’t know what an “emergency” critique situation is, but I use my MPCs regularly, so hey, six down, four to go). And I’m playing some Sting-does-jazz on the computer speakers.
Three stories written and in various states of polish in short order, Matthew on the mend, work a distant Monday morning concern, sleeping skunk oozing tranquility on my lap. For the first time in weeks, I actually feel relaxed, unstressed, basically at peace with the world. Ahhhh. Or should I say “ohmmmm”?
This is nice. I need to get more “nice” moments going on.
This morning, after a HUGE breakfast, Hobkin was greatly interested in playing a game of “pounce on feet.” My feet. Or rather my legs. My hose clad legs. I have since discovered that it is impossible to dissuade a young skunk who is intent upon playing a game of “pounce on feet” and am now down a pair of thigh-highs. Sigh.
It’s such a load off my mind, Matthew’s surgery being over and whatnot. These last few weeks have been just plain Hellish.
I just found out that my work folks want me to fly back to Illinois in the middle of August for some training so I can transition to a new project. Sigh. I hate going back there. It’s so dull and ugly. But on an up note, I do get to visit some dearly missed friends.
Matthew’s surgery went just great. He was able to walk and eat and wiggle all his fingers and toes as soon as he woke up from the anesthesia. And he reports that the pain from the herniated disc poof, is gone. As is the worrisome numbness and tingling he was beginning to feel. We’ll see how sore he is today when he’s *not* on a morphine drip when he wakes up. But I’m so relieved.
He’s got to take it easy for the next month, but that’s to be expected.
Hurray!
Thanks for all the kind thoughts and well wishes, everyone!
Today’s Matthew’s micro-discectomy (sp?) surgery. I’m anxious but also relieved. Trying not to dwell too much on the unlikely but possible “What Might Happen”s. Calmblueocean.
Fifteen critiques in so far from Critters on the story I have currently in the queue. Mental note to self: quit asking if readers think a juvenile story is age appropriate. I always get answers across the board and never change the reading level anyway. So far, getting some decent nit-level feedback, one person who didn’t know what a “kitsune” was, and one person who has, apparently, no imagination what-so-ever. Odd for a genre fiction wannabe writer. Snort.
Also threw up “In the Voices of Innocents” for next week’s queue with an MPC. Already got a couple critiques for that from my Dragon*Con writers group. Plan to send that one in to Ann Crispin to critique for the Advanced Writers Workshop this year. Doh, that reminds me. We had to miss the D*C staff meeting this weekend. We’re still good; we caught the last two. But I should fire off a note to our director person.
Currently at 4000 words with a cyberpunk mythos fusion work. Spent Friday evening mulling over a title. Think I’ve got one: “It’s Only Springtime When She’s Gone.” Got the whole thing outlined and set to finish–which is odd for me since I rarely outline. And I even want to write it so no reluctant muse there. But, unsurprisingly, time to write has not been easy to find.
Debating whether or not I want to bring my laptop to the hospital and try to pound out another thousand words, or if I’ll be too distracted to write and I should just bring the “Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror” anthology my in-laws gave me for Christmas that I haven’t cracked yet.
Ack! They’re going to cut open my husband and remove bits of his back! Ack!
Calmblueocean.
Ack! Too much coffee, too much stress, too many ideas spamming my brain, fingers twitching too hard to type, going to implode . . .
*POP*
Public service announcement: It is possible to OD on coffee. *twitch*
*whimper* My brain hurts.
Matthew’s pretty un-ambulatory these days. I drove him to the neurosurgeon for his pre-surgery check-up and lab work appointment. That was so not fun. Matthew could barely stand or sit, much less walk around from lab room to radiology, etc. And I got lost in the hospital parking complex. Big surprise. I’d get lost in a paper bag if I’d never been in it before. Sigh. Stress levels = high.
We are, however, set up for him to have the surgery next Monday afternoon. Sooner good.
Trying hard not to dwell too much on the fact that they lost us this morning at the doctor’s office. The receptionist put us in a room so Matthew could recline, and then the doctor and nurse couldn’t find us and only located us ’cause I heard them saying “Matthew Foster? Is he here? He is? Where is he?” and poked my head out of the door. And that the last time we were there, they almost mixed up Matthew’s MRI and X-ray films with someone else’s. Twice. Even though the name on the other films was “James Foster” and not “Matthew Foster” and James’ case was a neck problem, not a back. Gleep.
Calmblueocean.
Hobkin came back from the vet’s chipper, alert, and energetic. Not at all acting the way you’d expect a critter who’d been opened up, had pieces extracted, and been sewn back together again to be. All good. He’s doing great.
He was trotting around again immediately.
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