28 November 2012

No Substitute For An Actual Post

Wow. What a week. So, let's for a moment forget the flurry of Thanksgiving and the terribly satisfying gluttony that followed (because all of that in and of itself was exhausting). We hosted 10 people at our house and had enough food for probably twice that. Either that or we just weren't all that enthusiastic about our stretchy pants. Anyway, it has been a whirlwind that only feels like it's dying down today because I am not physically in motion.

Sunday I got word that my Grandmother fell and broke her hip. Multiple fractures. Now, the woman is 92 years old with osteoporosis and has been living on her own since before my grandfather died in 2004. She's a tough cookie. That being said... well, I was scared to death. You see, two years ago I had this dream that my Grandma told me the exact day she was going to die. (Why yes, I do remember a dream I had two years ago. I also remember one I had when I was 4 with more clarity than I remember last month. What of it?) November 26, for those curious. ALSO, I had this really creepy feeling about a week and a half ago (a week before she fell, that is)... just this weird, "Oh God is Grandma alright" feeling. Turns out both of my aunts had the same kind of ookiness on the same day. So, Sunday, Grandma falls and gets to the hospital. Surgery ensues when? Monday the 26th of November.  *facepalm* I was on pins and fucking needles all. damn. day. Because I was certain she wouldn't make it out of surgery. "This is it, this dream is coming true."  Long story short (too late): Grandma came through surgery with rainbow unicorns. She's got some hardware in her hip and her chances of winning a championship pogo-stick competition are minimal, but she is on the mend. She starts rehab this week and will then be moving in with my aunts. She was sitting up and even took a couple of assisted steps yesterday. Go Grandma!

Beyond that, there's all sorts of crazy shit going on. My husband and daughter overruled my desires to sit and sulk and worry on Sunday by forcing me to deck my halls. Our house is full of fa and la and all ready for Christmas.

I've been putting the finishing touches on getting a short story ready for submission for potential publication in an anthology. Had to write up a bio for the thing. I hate writing bios, especially short ones because (let's face it) I ramble. All the bios I read for comparison/ideas were basically, "So and so has a OMGWTFBBQPHD from Wooptieshit University and has spent many years gaining credibility. S/he was published in Big Bad Monthly and the coveted Epic Awesome quarterly. S/he has something pithy and clever here about living in a fantasy land with a cat that thinks it's a panther."  I don't have any of that. I have no nifty degrees. I have no publishing credits to my name outside of a school newspaper and possibly a bathroom wall somewhere in the Midwest.  Bios are where I freak out and feel inadequate.

So when I mention on my personal Facebook page that I'm doing this bio thing and how much I hate it, I got all sorts of suggestions from my beloved (and disturbed) friends. My favorite involved the line, "She lives in the American Southwest with 2 hobbits, 2 cats and a small thermonuclear device she bought on Etsy.com." Classic. Gold. Right there.

But, I think I've got that submission cocked, locked and ready to rock some stripey socks.

Two more things started falling into place. I can't talk about them just yet, but soon I will be able to spill it here. Because these gears are moving, others that have been at a standstill for months can get back to rolling as well. And soon Damocles will take his leave of me. Right? RIGHT?!

So yeah, I was hoping to get the next installment in the Better Know A Trickster series out to you this week, but due to crazy shit happening in my personal space, I'm going to ask for an extension of goodwill. Maui is coming, don't you worry.

Love and peaches, gang. 

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