November 1st, 2010


[links] Link salad wanders into a new month, wonders what happened to the old one

Steampunk is officially dead — Having hit the Sunday funnies.

Questionable Content on fan fic — Heh.

To NSFW or not to NSFW? — Roger Ebert on last week's Hefner article. And may I note the obvious?

The Milky Way Over the Peak of the Furnace — Mmm, APOD.

How to Hunt for Hidden PhotonsStare at the Sun from behind a wall and you might notice something interesting, say astrophysicists searching for a new breed of "hidden" photon.

The Grand Old Plot Against the Tea Party — Really, they're just Republicans who manahged to inflect the primary process somewhat. (And particularly ill-informed Republicans at that.) Who could possibly be surprised?

Plus special bonus weekend reacharound because so many of you were offline this weekend:

You Can't Tell Authors You Love Themjimvanpelt on, well, me. (Among other things.) He's just read my book The Specific Gravity of Grief.

calendula_witch's birthday

An email housekeeping note from me

A particularly steampunk (and Jay) moment of zen

?otD: Have you ever seen the dead dance?

Writing time yesterday: 0.5 hours (medical follies but some revisions, and collaborative WRPA with calendula_witch)
Body movement: 30 minute stationary bike ride
Hours slept: 6.5 hours (solid)
This morning's weigh-in: n/a
Yesterday's chemo/post-op stress index: 4/10 (fatigue, peripheral neuropathy, emotional distress)
Currently reading: I Wonder by Marian Bantjes


[calendula] The birthday that was, picking up every stitch

Yesterday was the Witchbirthday. We celebrated by having some spa and sauna time at Common Ground, which was very nice indeed. The weather was perfect for being wet and warm under the open sky a while.

After that, calendula_witch and I had a marvelous Vietnamese lunch at Pho Van, before repairing to the Witchnest to do some writing and plan our December getaway weekend.

Then to Nuevo Rancho Lake (bearing fine cheese) to see the_child's Halloween costume in full deployment. While we were there, my mother and my aunts got to telling old stories, which were largely hilarious and occasionally tragic. Two memorable statements that stood out for me were "Joe was so mad he couldn't even fiddle with his pocket protector" and "Sometimes you have to drive through a civil war to get to a story".

We rounded out our evening with a truly lovely dinner at Papa Haydn. There I bestowed my Witchgift, which seems to have been well-received.

I cannot speak for the birthday girl, of course, but I found it a very satisfactory day indeed. I hope she did too.


[personal] And the hits just keep on coming...

As regular readers of this blog know, about the time I really recovered from liver surgery, my mother went into the hospital for major surgery of her own. (There has been and continues to be a fair amount of other stuff going on at the same time.) She has been recovering at my house, with the attentions of my aunts (her sisters) at the moment. They are going home Thursday, and we do not yet have even a tentative date for her to return to her own house, due to several open issues.

So fairly shortly I will revert to being primary caregiver on an open-ended basis. My sister will be carrying as much of the load as I (and she carried far more than I while our mother was in the hospital), but the logistical stuff like overnight meds falls here, except when I am out traveling.

Even with my aunts en suite, this is taking up a lot of my time, attention and emotional resources. How could it not? This is my mother we're talking about. All this while cramming calendula_witch's birthday and many other things into my schedule. In turn, that means I have gotten virtually no writing done. I'm almost a month behind on launching my efforts on Kalimpura. As a practical matter, today is pretty much shot for writing time, but I hope to re-enter novel space tomorrow for the process of first drafting.

I am frustrated by life at the moment. I pride myself on being able to write through just about anything. For the most part, this is true. Though I've never tested this assertion, I'm pretty sure I could write in a bar fight. Apparently what I cannot do is write through 11.5 months of ongoing healthcare crisis and stress.

I want my mother healthy. I want me healthy. I want everyone else around me to stay healthy, damn it. Then I want to write books and stories.