Better Than Dead

27 Dec
The guy in the Cadillac Escalade whose license plate included “ASAP” driving at least 10 mph under the speed limit.

30 Dec
I have strep throat. The doc said “I worked in the ER and nothing phases me but THAT’S impressive.” God knows how long I’ve had it.

31 Dec
I’ve been sick as a dog for days but tonight I feel like I may have regained my humanity. Happy new year everyone.

1 Jan
No fever this morning for the first time since Friday. I think I may survive. 

 May you all enjoy a happy and fever free 2013.

1 Jan
Having watched all the Rose Parade I can stand (10 minutes), I will turn my attention elsewhere.

2 Jan
People are the foulest species. I don’t usually watch Animal Cops because I can’t stand the cruelty, stupidity and culpability of some people, but it happened to be on when I turned the TV on and I became transfixed by a story of three horses. Happy endings for two of them, no word on what kind of ending the third experienced. I want to believe the number of good people balances out the bad, but there are days I have my doubts.

2 Jan
In other news, I still feel like crud.

2 Jan
Watching a Dr. Oz diet show while eating KFC: another fine irony.

3 Jan
Profound: doing an oracle reading re: Mom and having her interrupt it with a phone call. If I was a writer I might make something of that.

4 Jan
I felt mostly human today but still tire way too easily.

6 Jan
Who likes mimes except other mimes?

7 Jan
I think “don’t describe eye color” is one of the more bogus writing rules. Someone with a personality disorder must have made that one up. I always notice eye color in Real Life. It’s pertinent in description; eyes are the windows to the soul, etc. Having said all this, I do believe amateurs way the hell overuse eye color as a descriptor, as if it’s the only thing important about a face. It’s one more piece of the puzzle, that’s all, and perhaps that rule was generated by someone’s frustration over too many “he had brown hair and blue eyes” 
flat and lifeless descriptions. More important perhaps to note the pitted quality of his nose, how light never touches those blue eyes.

7 Jan
They’re talking about springing Ma soon from the Big House. She’s been walking real good.

9 Jan
Boycotting Olive Garden, Red Lobster and now Wendy’s: http://bit.ly/ZyYiY5 

10 Jan
Hope seems to be my Rasputin emotion. No matter how many times and ways it is assassinated, it refuses to die.

10 Jan
Mom got cocky, thinking she was going home, and decided to go to the bathroom without help. She lost her balance and “fell.” Although she insists she just “slid down the wall.” No breaks/fractures, thank God. But they want to monitor her another week or so before releasing her. She’s doing well. They took her outside and walked her up and down the block yesterday (assisted). They’re just being cautious.

11 Jan
I’m so old that when I hear the word “butter” I have to fight the urge to say, “Parkay.”

14 Jan
Dear Man on the Cycle: your clownish bicycle clothes just got stupider with the addition of the unitard.

14 Jan
The water in the birdbath froze overnight, a very rare occurrence here near the beach.

14 Jan
It doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t 

mean anything.

Don’t read anything into it, don’t read anything into it, don’t read anything into it, don’t read anything into it, don’t read anything into it.

Remember: hope is the thing without feathers.

14 Jan
Funny the things that stick in your mind: I can’t read/hear “papier maché” without hearing Rowan Atkinson’s voice (from Blackadder Goes Forth) saying, “Pap-ee-yay MASH-ay willie.” (He was mocking the artistic strivings of Hugh Laurie’s upperclass twit character.) That phrase has been rattling around in my brain for years. Sad, really.

15 Jan
Wow. I just forgot my boss’s last name. I had to get up and look at his name plate. That’s rather terrifying.

15 Jan
Stop being a writer and just write.

15 Jan
Conspiracy theory and gun nuts—a terrifying, sick combination: http://yhoo.it/106HIPr 

 25 Nov

At the ER for the second time in 2 days.

25 Nov

We’re in ICU now. Mom’s getting emergency dialysis. Doctors confident that will stabilize her. I’ll let you know.

25 Nov

Mom still in ICU but stabilized. Thanks for all the well wishes.

28 Nov

Mom doing better. They hope to move her out of ICU today.

28 Nov

ICU psychosis: I do not recommend it.

29 Nov

Mom’s stable. The ICU nurse and I agreed: it’s probably best I come back to work. So here I am.

11 Sep
Vegetarians sure do spend a lot of time concocting meat substitutes. That isn’t a judgment, just an ironic observation.

12 Sep
It’s amazing how much our sugar bill goes up this time of year as the hummingbirds get ready to migrate south and tank up on our feeders.

13 Sep
Editing. After all the years and the disappointments, I still hope. I don’t know if that’s my folly or my strength. Why can’t it be both? I suppose it can.

Side note: HUGE congratulations to my friend, Elizabeth Hull (darkspires), who after many years and many disappointments just sold her novel, Darkspire Reaches, to Holland House.

13 Sep
A little wild finch landed on the table next to me and looked up expecting a snack. I felt guilty. Meanwhile, the old asshole at the next table is throwing water at them.

14 Sep
You know, I don’t use ellipses enough in my…writing.

16 Sep
Day 3.5 of Crud on Earth and I’m watching UFOs Over Earth. Perfect crud-brain viewing. At least the record breaking heatwave has temporarily abated. Fans and head colds are not a happy combination.

18 Sep
Somewhere a Romney sings but not for me.

I have too many show tunes in my head. I blame it on MGM, Gene Kelly, and Donald O’Connor.

18 Sep
Now my mother has this damned cold. She’s sick as a dog. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

19 Sep
Lindsay Lohan is looking about 40 these days—and that’s in her glamour shots. What the partying life does for you.

20 Sep
The space shuttle is supposed to fly over Santa Monica pier, quite near our building at work, on its farewell tour of L.A. tomorrow. We’re hoping the west side of our building doesn’t sink as everyone rushes to that side, or the balconies don’t collapse.

20 Sep
Last Monday, the 17th, was “Respect for the Aged Day.” Which is ironic, considering at least one phone conversation I had.

21 Sep
The Endeavour fly over anticipation here at work is very high. We expect it to buzz right by the building when it passes Santa Monica Pier.

21 Sep
AWESOME! Endeavour flew by Santa Monica Pier about 1 minute ago! So close! And apparently I don’t know how to take pictures of space shuttles with a cell phone. 🙁 My work compadres are sharing their photos, though, so it’s all cool. 🙂 Some of the talented photographers here got great close ups and even a really awesome movie.

24 Sep
Rule of thumb: any 365 calendar or book that describes itself as “hilarious” probably isn’t.

26 Sep
The view of the Shuttle Endeavour from my ‘hood. I live about 5 blocks due west of here (the direction shuttle is flying).

27 Sep
It’s amazing to me how otherwise smart people think you can be infected by the same cold/virus twice. Not how the immune system works.

29 Sep
Being alone with Caregiving 101 is the worst thing. No one can help me, really.

30 Sep
My neighbor brought over a surprise belated birthday cake and champagne! It was very sweet of them. And great cake. Steve is a great baker.

1 Oct
A literal wall of fog: coming down from the Playa del Rey bluffs this morning the L.A. Basin was completely covered in fog, only the very tips of the tallest mountains in the Santa Monica range showing. Down in the basin, driving through the Marina, the trees were shadows behind rice paper walls until I came within twenty feet of them and they emerged, soft-edged. It’s supposed to burn off and bring record heat in its wake.

the last couple of days with this cold/flu that’s making the rounds. I feel slightly less like Death Warmed Over today than yesterday. I’m hoping I can get back with the routine and go to work tomorrow. February has not been the kindest month to me–but onward! Things could be so much worse and I’m grateful they aren’t. If that makes any sense at all…

Thanks to everyone for their well wishes.  Mom made it through the procedure fine and we were home from the hospital by one p.m. (after getting there at Oh-Godawful a.m.).  She experienced quite a bit of discomfort yesterday and this morning, but we had good drugs to mitigate the worst of it.  She’s feeling better this afternoon, resuming her game of solitaire on the Kindle.  🙂

The Kindle doesn’t seem to respond to her touch as readily as it does to mine.  I checked to make sure she’s not using the fingernail or missing the icon.  I have no idea what could be going on.

But that’s a preferable problem to having Mom feel like ****.

We’ll be at the hospital bright and early tomorrow so Mom can have a more permanent dialysis site “input” into her body. This is a routine procedure, but at age 90, nothing is completely routine. Any good thoughts, prayers, or whatever positives you feel like directing our way would be greatly appreciated.

I asked her if she was nervous about it. She said no. “I’ll be nervous for both of us, then,” I said. And that’s what I’m doing, being nervous enough for two people, or five or ten.

In other news, Mom had me download several more games and books to her Kindle Fire. She’s having a lot of fun with it.

1. Under the heading of “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished” I was asked to do a favor for someone I don’t work for. I agreed and set about the proofreading, formatting, etc., of a long document. I spent five hours at this task and sent it back to the author only to discover that I had been given the wrong version. I was unhappy, but not so unhappy as the author who had to do a compare/contrast of my changes/his changes over the weekend. Then I got it back to finish cleaning up.

2. I got a robo-call last week to remind me that I had an appointment at UCLA Med for Monday, October 31. I knew I did—it was my semi-annual thyroid check up. Yet somehow, between now and then, I dropped off the computer. They had no record of my appointment and the doctor was booked solid with other people. I’m glad I took a half vacation day to go to this appointment and that I made special arrangements for a friend to take my mom to dialysis so I didn’t have to reschedule and wait and additional 2-3 months for a new appointment. I’ll be seeing the doctor in mid-December. At least I got to go home for a couple of hours and put my sore knee up with a heating pad (crone!) before picking Mom up at dialysis.

3. Since we usually get home from dialysis between 7-7:30 p.m. (sometimes later), I knew that I would miss most of the cute little trick or treaters that I love giving out candy to. Plus, after a dialysis day, we’re usually trashed and I was so not in the mood this year. So I left the porch light out when I drove to pick up Mom. They had a Haunted House at Westchester Park, about a block from our house, right where Georgetown deadends. As I made the turn from Manchester to Georgetown, I saw hordes and hordes and hordes of older thugs pouring out of the Haunted House, and more parents driving onto our street and disgorging their vans and cars of screaming invaders. I knew we were in trouble. So Mom and I sneaked like felons into our house to avoid the hordes. Even so, as we were letting ourselves into our darkened front door some particularly ambitious candy extortionists followed us up the driveway. “We don’t have any candy here!” I yelled. “Sorry!” and quickly slammed the door. Later, as I was making dinner I was forced to turn on the kitchen light (though the porch light was still out) and as soon as I did kids streamed to our front door yelling, “Trick or treat!” I quickly turned the light out, ignored them, and they departed. Thankfully, it was a school night and everyone had pretty much departed the neighborhood by 10 p.m. Or so I think. I fell asleep in my chair by 8:30. When I woke at 9 they were still traipsing about, and when I awoke again around 10 things had quieted considerably. So I went to bed.

4. This morning while I was showering I noticed the water lapping around my ankles. Sure enough, it was refusing to go down the drain. Simultaneous to this, my mother’s toilet refused to flush and threatened to o’er top its containment vessel. I thought fleetingly, “This must be the trick for refusing to give the treats.” Eventually they both drained, but it took close to a half hour and there was much gurgling and scary sewer sounds. You may remember that we had the entire sewer pipe replaced about a year ago? The plumber who came out today (a different plumber) said that pipe was just fine…but there was this other pipe underneath the house…He’s coming tomorrow morning to replace it. The good news is, we must be getting close to having all new plumbing for this old place. It’s gotten so absurd at this point I just have to laugh. What the hell else am I going to do?

5. Mom seems to be doing better and we have no new doctor’s appointments until Thursday the 10th. I’m hoping we continue in this undramatic fashion for awhile.

6. One more than five! I continue to poke at research for The Numberless Stars, and even did some creative thinking about the plot. There still remains little to no time for actual writing, but you can’t have everything. Some day, however, I may write the Great Crone Epic. I’m wondering if anyone in this youth-obsessed market will even want to read about kick-ass crones?

1. When I heard that WFC would be in San Diego in 2011 I thought, “Oh hell, for sure I can go, even if it’s just to drive down for a day.” Life had other plans, unfortunately. And, truth told, I might not have gone, despite my optimism. Every year I plan to go to Loscon, which takes place about 10 miles from my house on Thanksgiving weekend, aaaaaaaand…I don’t go. I should never underestimate the power of my own sloth.

2. Mom had some scary issues this week, but the doctors think they were due to water retention (always a hazard with dialysis). Since they’ve up the Lasix, the problems have improved.

3. I have injured my knee. My good knee. I pulled a muscle along the side of the knee, which has happened before, but now the joint is stiff and swollen as well. The bad knee, ironically, is doing much, much better. *sigh*

4. I’ve been studying Native American gender identity issues for some time now, but my interest has revived over the last couple of weeks as I’ve worked on the research for The Numberless Stars. I’ve been poking at the cultural mores of different tribes regarding attitudes towards the third sex, the berdache, as anthropologists have labeled them. In the kind of synchronicity that often occurs when I start seriously poking at some research, this popped up on LJ’s little_details. Very helpful indeed. I’ve already ordered the Williams book and one other. Both cheap used copies, of course.

5. TGIF. Putting a hundred extra miles (or more) on the car per week is rather draining, but today all that is required of me is to be at work. Tomorrow I actually get three hours to myself while Mom is at dialysis, and Sunday, the blessed day, I don’t have to go anywhere at all. Chores, sure, but I don’t have to drive anywhere. I try to keep that sacrosanct about Sundays.

Due to an unfortunate meeting with some tainted substance, I experienced the joys of food poisoning early Wednesday morning.  It was a rather virulent case and laid me flat for several days.  I’m definitely better, if still somewhat low energy, but I haven’t touched my blogging universe friends pages since Tuesday and I don’t know if I have the energy to ever catch up.  So if anyone made any announcements they think I should know about, let me know, wouldja?

It’s funny the parallels life hands you. I’m currently doing the final polish on my old novel, Blood Geek, which has a heroine (Susan) who spent most of her youth caring for a sick parent. She’s ready to burst free of her constricted life, to explore the larger world in a way she’s never been able to before.

When I wrote this story I was much younger myself and imagining what it would be like to have your life defined by the illness of another. I had no experience of it in my real life. But there is this haunting echo, now that I am helping to care for my own mother, that keeps bouncing through the chambers of my heart. It’s a little disturbing. I knew more than I thought I knew back then.

How could I have? Because those parallels were not just about one thing, not just about the illness of a parent. They were about living a constrained life and wanting to break free. Back when I wrote this book, I had spent a number of years living such a fenced-in life, dealing with my own illness. I also was yearning to break free, to explore the larger world—in a way I’d once done before getting sick. The book was great therapy in that, although I’m not Susan and her life is not mine. It encouraged me to break free and I did for many years.

And now I am in a different phase of my life. I have no vision for what comes next. I can’t see that far beyond the day-to-day. I do know that when I get back to writing something new again, I don’t want it to echo that day-to-day in the slightest. Which is not to say I might not use some of these characters again—in fact, I fully intend to. But they will be engaged in some other enterprise, something that blows the doors open to other worlds with no fences.

I also know this, and the last week or so has only crystallized this “revelation”: creative work is not a luxury for me, although I’ve been treating it that way lately. Creative work is absolutely necessary. It helps keep me as sane as I’m ever going to get. It helps me breathe. I need that room to breathe or I, the me that means something, will cease to exist. I will become nothing more than another middle-aged woman going through a life of duty and chores. That person will not be worth knowing, and will not be a balm of comfort to an aging and ill parent, or anyone else. Including myself.

Creativity sets me free, no matter how limited my life is at any given time, to be the best person I can be. I will cling to it, thank you very much, as my golden-glowing life preserver until I slip beneath the waters of oblivion.