Spent the past few days on Thanksgiving and decorating the house for Christmas. No great rush. Just want to have all the decorations up by December 1. Also, I may be coming down with something. I've been tired and can't seem to get enough rest. Been drinking lots of fluid and taking Vitamin C. Hope that beats back whatever this is. Or maybe I just need more naps.
It's chilly and rainy here today. Don't mind the rain; don't mind the chill. Dislike both when they combine. I don't think I could ever live in Seattle. Snow is okay as long as it doesn't get crazy. Ice is never okay.
Decided last night to write 500 words a day until the New Year. This blog will count, all the other blogs will do, and of course, Facebook. Naturally, books, columns, articles, videos, etc., will count, too. Thought maybe I would end the year with writing, writing, writing. Curious to see if I have the determination to do this.
This week, I have doctor's appointment, decorating, household chores, writing, Christmas parade Thursday night, shopping, and finally a Christmas concert Sunday. What is your week looking like? Whatever you have going, I hope it goes well!
(206 words)
Sunday, November 27, 2016
Thursday, November 24, 2016
Home At Last. Thank God, I'm Home At Last
After traveling nearly constantly from the end of September, I am home, mostly, until the end of April, when we start all over again. I have to make a trip to San Antonio to pick up my new glasses. I'll need to make a couple more trips to San Antonio to do yard work, but I'll work that in.
The Hershey trip went extraordinarily well -- Mr. L's pre-planning back in February made a huge difference. Medical trips to San Antonio worked out fine eventually. And my trip to Wisconsin to visit my folks went extraordinarily well, too. The minor illness I experienced on the way home is abating (although I suspect the cough may linger, but I'm doing to do my best to eradicate it).
I've utterly failed to do any writing during this time. Constant travel does not lend itself to such things. I will regroup and devise a plan. A few ideas crept into my head. Some notations were made; however, there's nothing workable. And I must get GEEKS revised. I must get past the first draft and successfully revise my work for acceptable publication. This is an essential part of being a writer.
Efforts to capture Zelda, Nick, and Daisy begin in earnest on Monday. Yes, the Kitten has a name. If you're a fan of F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, these names may seem familiar. Mr. L's master's thesis was on F. Scott Fitzgerald, so when I named Zelda, all the other names fell into place.
The house is still a disaster, but I will begin plucking away at it a little at a time. Someday, it will be together. Planning is ongoing, and I'll sort these little things out in due time.
The Hershey trip went extraordinarily well -- Mr. L's pre-planning back in February made a huge difference. Medical trips to San Antonio worked out fine eventually. And my trip to Wisconsin to visit my folks went extraordinarily well, too. The minor illness I experienced on the way home is abating (although I suspect the cough may linger, but I'm doing to do my best to eradicate it).
I've utterly failed to do any writing during this time. Constant travel does not lend itself to such things. I will regroup and devise a plan. A few ideas crept into my head. Some notations were made; however, there's nothing workable. And I must get GEEKS revised. I must get past the first draft and successfully revise my work for acceptable publication. This is an essential part of being a writer.
Efforts to capture Zelda, Nick, and Daisy begin in earnest on Monday. Yes, the Kitten has a name. If you're a fan of F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, these names may seem familiar. Mr. L's master's thesis was on F. Scott Fitzgerald, so when I named Zelda, all the other names fell into place.
The house is still a disaster, but I will begin plucking away at it a little at a time. Someday, it will be together. Planning is ongoing, and I'll sort these little things out in due time.
Thursday, November 17, 2016
Struggling to get out of park
The headline on this really is where I am right now—struggling to get out of park. Perhaps it's time for lists. Or Miracle Morning. Or Passion Planner. Or any of the other ways I've used in the past to kick start me and shake the dragging dog from my ankles.
The completion of Blackbirds Third Flight left a hole in my schedule. No project has aroused enough interest to fill the space...yet. I will get moving again. That's a truth about self-pubbed authors, and sharks, and anyone in life. You have to keep moving. Movement is life. I would add that movement with purpose is the aim.
Anyway, Thanksgiving is coming up. I will have guests here on Thanksgiving Day. Will have turkey and the usual trimming, including low carb options for me and anyone else on a low carb diet. Not a lot of people, but enough to fill my house.
What are your Thanksgiving plans? Family, friends, or a quiet, lovely day at home sipping tea and watching the Macy Thanksgiving Parade on TV? A mad plunge into Black Friday? Whatever they are, I wish you a good week and a good day.
The completion of Blackbirds Third Flight left a hole in my schedule. No project has aroused enough interest to fill the space...yet. I will get moving again. That's a truth about self-pubbed authors, and sharks, and anyone in life. You have to keep moving. Movement is life. I would add that movement with purpose is the aim.
Anyway, Thanksgiving is coming up. I will have guests here on Thanksgiving Day. Will have turkey and the usual trimming, including low carb options for me and anyone else on a low carb diet. Not a lot of people, but enough to fill my house.
What are your Thanksgiving plans? Family, friends, or a quiet, lovely day at home sipping tea and watching the Macy Thanksgiving Parade on TV? A mad plunge into Black Friday? Whatever they are, I wish you a good week and a good day.
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Like a bad penny
Not been here. Well, I've posted about Blackbirds Third Flight, but nothing about other things. BTF took up all my available energy. That's over. Oh, there's still some publicity things I'm doing, but for the most part, that's automatic. Wish BTF was in the hands of many more readers. I'm proud of it. I think it has the best cover of the three anthologies and has exciting, high quality short stories and poems. I hope more people read it; the authors deserve the exposure.
This week, I'm going to work on Floozy Comes Back, do chores, start walking again, try to plan for Thanksgiving, and a few other even less exciting things. Not much else to say.
Glad it's cooler weather here, but havn't really needed my coat yet. Not sure if fall is going to get here before winter comes.
Have a great week.
This week, I'm going to work on Floozy Comes Back, do chores, start walking again, try to plan for Thanksgiving, and a few other even less exciting things. Not much else to say.
Glad it's cooler weather here, but havn't really needed my coat yet. Not sure if fall is going to get here before winter comes.
Have a great week.
Wednesday, November 2, 2016
Cancel the crisis
We got home from Kalamazoo about an hour ago. I've fed and snuggled kitties and taken a shower. The drive home was kind of brutal, but only because of dark, rain, and trucks. Despite that, I'm so very grateful.
When Dad called yesterday to tell me Grandma was in the hospital, I wasn't too concerned. Then he said things like "fluid in her lungs" and "congestive heart failure" and that she was on a ventilator. I got a little scared.
He told me I didn't have to come. I saw her last week, and I could remember her like that. He didn't want me to drive up alone after working all day. I got a little more scared and called Eric. Then I texted my night shift person, who graciously came in an hour early so I could leave. I came home and packed a bag, and as soon as Eric got home, we hit the road.
The mid-drive update wasn't great. She still wasn't awake from the sedative they'd used to put the vent tube down her throat. It was supposed to last about an hour, and it had been two or three at that point. The respiratory therapist had been in a couple times and turned the ventilator to CPAP mode to see if she would breathe on her own. She didn't. I was sure she was already gone. The bard in me whispered that it was the day after Samhain; the veil was still thin. She could slip through and be with Grandpa again.
We got to the hospital about 9:00. Dad met us in the lobby and said Grandma had rallied. She was awake but not terribly coherent. We visited for a little while, then left my aunt (who flatly refused to go home) with instructions to text me if anything changed.
This morning, she was more coherent and kept trying to ask where she was, why she was there, and how long the tube had to stay in. The doctor's first rounds were not encouraging. Her opinion for the best treatment was basically to remove the vent tube and keep her on morphine. She danced around telling us there was no treatment beyond palliative care, but when I asked point blank if she thought Grandma's condition was terminal, she said yes.
Long story short, they took out the vent tube about 2:00 this afternoon. The first thing she said was, "I want to talk." Boy, did she! She had more questions that a toddler: How did I get here? What happened? What hospital am I in? How long do I have to be here? What happened to my voice? Why is it so hoarse? How long is THAT going to last? Why aren't you all at work? Who's paying for all of this? When can I get out of bed? When can I go home? When can I get some food?
The food question stopped her nurse in her tracks. Literally. She stopped and stared and then laughed. They don't normally have to feed ICU patients, but by the time Grandma kicked us out (with instructions to take tomorrow off and relax), they switched her from Nothing By Mouth to Clear Liquids.
German stubbornness for the win!
When I left yesterday, I was scared. Shaking scared. I never expected to laugh as much as I did today. Dad didn't want me to remember her hooked up to machines, but today he said he was glad we'd come and thanked Eric several times for coming with me so I wouldn't have to drive alone. It was worth the drive and expense to be there for my family after so many years of being too far away to be of any use. I'm grateful to be back in the fold.
We're under no illusions that she's going to get better. She's 100, for pity's sake. She might make Thanksgiving or Christmas and I'll be pleasantly surprised, but I'm quite certain she's not going tonight.
When Dad called yesterday to tell me Grandma was in the hospital, I wasn't too concerned. Then he said things like "fluid in her lungs" and "congestive heart failure" and that she was on a ventilator. I got a little scared.
He told me I didn't have to come. I saw her last week, and I could remember her like that. He didn't want me to drive up alone after working all day. I got a little more scared and called Eric. Then I texted my night shift person, who graciously came in an hour early so I could leave. I came home and packed a bag, and as soon as Eric got home, we hit the road.
The mid-drive update wasn't great. She still wasn't awake from the sedative they'd used to put the vent tube down her throat. It was supposed to last about an hour, and it had been two or three at that point. The respiratory therapist had been in a couple times and turned the ventilator to CPAP mode to see if she would breathe on her own. She didn't. I was sure she was already gone. The bard in me whispered that it was the day after Samhain; the veil was still thin. She could slip through and be with Grandpa again.
We got to the hospital about 9:00. Dad met us in the lobby and said Grandma had rallied. She was awake but not terribly coherent. We visited for a little while, then left my aunt (who flatly refused to go home) with instructions to text me if anything changed.
This morning, she was more coherent and kept trying to ask where she was, why she was there, and how long the tube had to stay in. The doctor's first rounds were not encouraging. Her opinion for the best treatment was basically to remove the vent tube and keep her on morphine. She danced around telling us there was no treatment beyond palliative care, but when I asked point blank if she thought Grandma's condition was terminal, she said yes.
Long story short, they took out the vent tube about 2:00 this afternoon. The first thing she said was, "I want to talk." Boy, did she! She had more questions that a toddler: How did I get here? What happened? What hospital am I in? How long do I have to be here? What happened to my voice? Why is it so hoarse? How long is THAT going to last? Why aren't you all at work? Who's paying for all of this? When can I get out of bed? When can I go home? When can I get some food?
The food question stopped her nurse in her tracks. Literally. She stopped and stared and then laughed. They don't normally have to feed ICU patients, but by the time Grandma kicked us out (with instructions to take tomorrow off and relax), they switched her from Nothing By Mouth to Clear Liquids.
German stubbornness for the win!
When I left yesterday, I was scared. Shaking scared. I never expected to laugh as much as I did today. Dad didn't want me to remember her hooked up to machines, but today he said he was glad we'd come and thanked Eric several times for coming with me so I wouldn't have to drive alone. It was worth the drive and expense to be there for my family after so many years of being too far away to be of any use. I'm grateful to be back in the fold.
We're under no illusions that she's going to get better. She's 100, for pity's sake. She might make Thanksgiving or Christmas and I'll be pleasantly surprised, but I'm quite certain she's not going tonight.