I've spent 2 days ignoring this plastic box on my desk. Partially because I was busy with Thanksgiving, partially because I've been sick as a dog, but mostly just because I needed to.99% of the time, the PC is a way to get to people and places I love, my personal little network neighborhood. Sometimes though, sometimes it feels like an addiction, like I need to get on it, and that's when I know that what I actually need to do is take some time off. Hence the last 2 days.
So we cooked, and cooked, and cooked. Nope, Erin - I didn't leave in the giblets, not this year anyway ;)
The first time I made Thanksgiving dinner on my own, my first husband's parents were in town for the holidays and I was "entertaining." I thought things had gone amazingly smoothly until my father-in-law started carving the turkey, while I loaded up the table. I knew we had a problem when he (and everyone else) started laughing hysterically. I could have cried, I was so embarrassed.
Anyway, yesterday came with no surprises and no disasters - mainly because my mother did most of the cooking while I tried to decide whether to I was going to survive this "thing" I have. It can't be the flu because I had the flu shot a few weeks ago, but I'll be damned if it doesn't feel like the flu. I'm still feeling pretty rough, but I'm not so bad today.
I have a knack for getting sick on holidays. Not just the sniffles either. One Christmas (about 10 years ago now) I actually slept through Christmas, and the following 2 days because I was so sick.
Anyway, while I suffered and Ma cooked, Scott hung lights and decorations out in the yard and around the eaves, which we lit as soon as it got dark. Then we ate, and ate and ate - then we put up the tree. I still haven't finished the inside decorations, but I worked on the tree till damn near 2am. Maybe I'll take pictures later and post them, but fair warning, I'm a lousy photographer.
I wish I could stop coughing, I've coughed till I'm sore and still keep coughing. And I'm so damn thirsty!
So I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving, giblets and all, be they cooked in plastic, or in gravy :) And I sincerely hope that none of you are nuts enough to be out shopping today! You couldn't pay me enough to go out today. The traffic, the crowds... nuh uh!
Now I'm off to reply to all my neglected email and comments.
Friday, November 25, 2005
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Better pack my bag
Fourteen days till December 7th.
That's the official date, the day Donovan will be born. I go in at 8am for an amniocentesis to ensure that his lungs are fully matured, then off we go to delivery, with the blessed addition of an epidural. My seventh labor and delivery, my first epidural. For the record, that huge amnio needle scares the hell out of me, but I figure there's enough to be frightened about right now, so fuck it, skewer me, I don't care, just give Nova the best chance he can get.
I really like my new doctor. She's very sweet, very professional, and has some sort of magic when it comes to bedside manner. She had no miracles to offer me, told me I'd be delivering 2 days earlier than I thought, because they want several days of the cardiac specialists being in the hospital in case Donovan is in really bad shape and needs the surgery immediately, or needs some special hands-on care from them (apparently, they take weekends off) then she added the joyous news of the amniocentesis, and yet, somehow, she made me feel at ease, comfortable even. I figure that was pretty damn good considering that I was fighting tears the whole way there. It's weird, I can keep it all in check at home, but something about going to/being in a doctor's office sets me off. I cried for 3 hours straight at my last appointment.
I pity the doctors, and Scott too, especially Scott, for all that I'll put them through on December 7th. I already warned Scott that I'm going to be a mess, I just hope that I'll be able to support him half as much as I know he'll support me that day. He isn't exactly the emotionally demonstrative type normally, but he's good under pressure, bless his heart. Out of compassion, I won't ask him to be there for the amnio though, he's not real good with needles
That's the official date, the day Donovan will be born. I go in at 8am for an amniocentesis to ensure that his lungs are fully matured, then off we go to delivery, with the blessed addition of an epidural. My seventh labor and delivery, my first epidural. For the record, that huge amnio needle scares the hell out of me, but I figure there's enough to be frightened about right now, so fuck it, skewer me, I don't care, just give Nova the best chance he can get.
I really like my new doctor. She's very sweet, very professional, and has some sort of magic when it comes to bedside manner. She had no miracles to offer me, told me I'd be delivering 2 days earlier than I thought, because they want several days of the cardiac specialists being in the hospital in case Donovan is in really bad shape and needs the surgery immediately, or needs some special hands-on care from them (apparently, they take weekends off) then she added the joyous news of the amniocentesis, and yet, somehow, she made me feel at ease, comfortable even. I figure that was pretty damn good considering that I was fighting tears the whole way there. It's weird, I can keep it all in check at home, but something about going to/being in a doctor's office sets me off. I cried for 3 hours straight at my last appointment.
I pity the doctors, and Scott too, especially Scott, for all that I'll put them through on December 7th. I already warned Scott that I'm going to be a mess, I just hope that I'll be able to support him half as much as I know he'll support me that day. He isn't exactly the emotionally demonstrative type normally, but he's good under pressure, bless his heart. Out of compassion, I won't ask him to be there for the amnio though, he's not real good with needles
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
She said
Death, or the possibility thereof, makes people uncomfortable. It makes them stutter and stumble and study the scuff marks on the toes of their shoes. What does one say when speaking to someone facing death when you aren't - hell, maybe you never have, so you feel awkward, maybe even guilty, right? But definitely speachless. Do yourself (and the other person) a favor at that point, don't try to force out something, and god damn it don't start flipping through the rolodex-o-platitudes for just that right little saying.
Now don't get me wrong, if there's something you want or need to say, something heart-felt and sincere, wonderful, say it. But not stuff like "everything happens for a reason" or some religious thing about how they're in a better place or whatever, ok? Someone said to me the other day, "God gives special children to special mothers" followed shortly by, "Well, He must know you're very strong, to have given you not one but TWO children with these defects!" As if this was a badge of honor I should wear. Know what's sad? I was talking to a therapist, a THERAPIST for fuck's sake. Where'd she get her little therapist license? K-mart?! Christ.
Yes, I'm angry tonight. I don't know why tonight more than last night or this afternoon, but I'm seriously just pissed off. Probably because I go to see the new doctor tomorrow and find out a definite date on the induction, which terrifies me. My reaction to fear is anger, always ha been. Never never jump out of a dark corner and scream "boo!" at me, because I will punch you in the mouth, cuss you out, and not speak to you for a month, because that shit just ain't funny!
Damned adrenaline or some such thing I guess.
Anyway, my point is that you folks, most of whom have never even met me, have been more intelligent and caring than that stupid woman. A therapist said 2 of the worst things I can think of in regards to my son's heart defects.
Let's be honest people, ok?
My son might die.
That has no bearing on whether I'm special or not, it doesn't make me strong, it makes me what? ...unlucky? cursed maybe? but not strong. And I refuse to believe that, if there even IS a god, that he goes flipping through the big book of people looking at the "S" section (s, for strong and special) deciding who he's going to drop the bomb on.
The truth is, I'm doing whatever I'm doing because there isn't much other choice, because I don't know any other way to do it. If I could stop it all right here and right now, I would. I'd hold my breath and stomp my feet and refuse. I'd stop the sun from rising if it meant my son would be ok, and the hell with how it affected anyone else. But there's nothing to be done. This isn't a sign of strength or specialness, it's resignation, or, well, as I like to call it:
Acceptance.
Now don't get me wrong, if there's something you want or need to say, something heart-felt and sincere, wonderful, say it. But not stuff like "everything happens for a reason" or some religious thing about how they're in a better place or whatever, ok? Someone said to me the other day, "God gives special children to special mothers" followed shortly by, "Well, He must know you're very strong, to have given you not one but TWO children with these defects!" As if this was a badge of honor I should wear. Know what's sad? I was talking to a therapist, a THERAPIST for fuck's sake. Where'd she get her little therapist license? K-mart?! Christ.
Yes, I'm angry tonight. I don't know why tonight more than last night or this afternoon, but I'm seriously just pissed off. Probably because I go to see the new doctor tomorrow and find out a definite date on the induction, which terrifies me. My reaction to fear is anger, always ha been. Never never jump out of a dark corner and scream "boo!" at me, because I will punch you in the mouth, cuss you out, and not speak to you for a month, because that shit just ain't funny!
Damned adrenaline or some such thing I guess.
Anyway, my point is that you folks, most of whom have never even met me, have been more intelligent and caring than that stupid woman. A therapist said 2 of the worst things I can think of in regards to my son's heart defects.
Let's be honest people, ok?
My son might die.
That has no bearing on whether I'm special or not, it doesn't make me strong, it makes me what? ...unlucky? cursed maybe? but not strong. And I refuse to believe that, if there even IS a god, that he goes flipping through the big book of people looking at the "S" section (s, for strong and special) deciding who he's going to drop the bomb on.
The truth is, I'm doing whatever I'm doing because there isn't much other choice, because I don't know any other way to do it. If I could stop it all right here and right now, I would. I'd hold my breath and stomp my feet and refuse. I'd stop the sun from rising if it meant my son would be ok, and the hell with how it affected anyone else. But there's nothing to be done. This isn't a sign of strength or specialness, it's resignation, or, well, as I like to call it:
Acceptance.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Finally, it's winter
The wind today whistled through the wind tunnel created by the close proximity of my house with the neighbor's, a driveway in between running roughly north/south. It it just a small path of gravel between the 2 houses, In the Spring it serves as a river during the storms, a rushing drainage ditch that goes from dry to 4 inches of converging rivulets in a matter of minutes - but in the fall, it's beautiful. Autumn sings down this man made corridor, leaves swirl into pretty piles against the fence. And I sit at the wide window watching, listening to them whisper, and wondering what their secrets could be.
Last weekend we weeded the garden. It had been sorely neglected over the latter, hotter part of summer and early fall. It was more a brush and briar patch than a garden - all the flowers and bushes choked out by the heat and lack of rain and neglect and rampant crabgrass. Mid November, and it was in the mid-seventies. We wore shorts and tee shirts and sweated. It was unnatural. But over the last week, autumn seems to have finally settled in and gotten comfortable. Today was cold and wet and there was thunder. We went Christmas shopping and wore winter coats, and walked a little faster across the parking lot in an attempt to get out of the biting wind gusts.
I hate cold weather, winter has always been my least favorite of seasons, but today, in the midst of everything that has gone crazy and oh-so-wrong in my life lately - today the cold and wet and dreary just seemed fitting. It seemed right.
So we finished up the biggest part of holiday shopping. I've never felt so driven to get Christmas planned and settled - it's like some sort of mission I'm on. Part distraction, and part reality I suppose. In a few more weeks I'll be in no mood for shopping or decorating. So we came home and sat at the window and watched as the rain ran down the driveway, and the leaves danced down their little mini-river to the beat of thunder rumbles. Then, we rearranged the livingroom in preparation for the tree and decorations that we'll put up on Thursday evening and Friday. Tomorrow I go to the Women's shelter and drop off our Thanksgiving dinners, then we'll finish stuffing the stockings, it's all that's left to be done really. You can feel the kids' anticipation building, the excitement is amping up as the holidays approach., but I feel sort of robotic about it, detached.
I hate that I can't feel it or participate more. It's like watching those leaves dance outside my window - through the glass, separate, seeing but not being able to touch.
Last weekend we weeded the garden. It had been sorely neglected over the latter, hotter part of summer and early fall. It was more a brush and briar patch than a garden - all the flowers and bushes choked out by the heat and lack of rain and neglect and rampant crabgrass. Mid November, and it was in the mid-seventies. We wore shorts and tee shirts and sweated. It was unnatural. But over the last week, autumn seems to have finally settled in and gotten comfortable. Today was cold and wet and there was thunder. We went Christmas shopping and wore winter coats, and walked a little faster across the parking lot in an attempt to get out of the biting wind gusts.
I hate cold weather, winter has always been my least favorite of seasons, but today, in the midst of everything that has gone crazy and oh-so-wrong in my life lately - today the cold and wet and dreary just seemed fitting. It seemed right.
So we finished up the biggest part of holiday shopping. I've never felt so driven to get Christmas planned and settled - it's like some sort of mission I'm on. Part distraction, and part reality I suppose. In a few more weeks I'll be in no mood for shopping or decorating. So we came home and sat at the window and watched as the rain ran down the driveway, and the leaves danced down their little mini-river to the beat of thunder rumbles. Then, we rearranged the livingroom in preparation for the tree and decorations that we'll put up on Thursday evening and Friday. Tomorrow I go to the Women's shelter and drop off our Thanksgiving dinners, then we'll finish stuffing the stockings, it's all that's left to be done really. You can feel the kids' anticipation building, the excitement is amping up as the holidays approach., but I feel sort of robotic about it, detached.
I hate that I can't feel it or participate more. It's like watching those leaves dance outside my window - through the glass, separate, seeing but not being able to touch.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
PPotW #2
This week's Poetisphere Poet of the Week has proudly been annoounced! Congratulations to Daniel at Finally Getting Somewhere!
Tarheel Tavern #39 is open!
Despite the convergence of fates, technical difficulties and human error, the 39th Tarheel Tavern is open for business - thanks to Janie's hard work and diligence. Go have a look, she introduces some new blogs that aren't generally listed among the participants, and the links she gathered on her own are some really interesting posts.
Also, we're looking for future hosts, Jane was the last one we had lined up in advance - so please, if you'd be interested in hosting, now would be a great time!
Also, we're looking for future hosts, Jane was the last one we had lined up in advance - so please, if you'd be interested in hosting, now would be a great time!
Friday, November 18, 2005
The EFF effect
In light of the current and recent events concerning my chapbook and the publisher thereof, who attempted to force me to retract this statement via the threat of litigation, I thought this organization and their web page on bloggers rights would be something worth sharing. I was particularly interested in the legal guide they provide that pertains to blogging in general, as well as their overview of legal liability issues FAQ page, which puts into plain English what I already knew as far as my posts on Chapbook Enterprises:
There is no legal basis for a lawsuit, and she has no foundation on which to stand when trying to force a retraction.
I think the EFF site is probably one of the most valuable pages on the internet for anyone who blogs. It deals with every legal issue I could think of as it would apply to bloggers - including the issue of blogging about work, which has become so hot a topic anymore that people hesitate to mention that they HAVE a job, let alone where or with whom they work, for fear of termination.
And to top it all, they're an organization that includes lawyers who are dedicated to the protection of bloggers' rights, and in some cases even represent the blogger in a lawsuit. They're currently having a fund raiser, which is actually how I found the link to them, and if I could afford to join right now, I'd do it. As it is, they're on my list of things to do after... Well, sometime at the beginning of the year.
hat tip: taking the brim
There is no legal basis for a lawsuit, and she has no foundation on which to stand when trying to force a retraction.
I think the EFF site is probably one of the most valuable pages on the internet for anyone who blogs. It deals with every legal issue I could think of as it would apply to bloggers - including the issue of blogging about work, which has become so hot a topic anymore that people hesitate to mention that they HAVE a job, let alone where or with whom they work, for fear of termination.
And to top it all, they're an organization that includes lawyers who are dedicated to the protection of bloggers' rights, and in some cases even represent the blogger in a lawsuit. They're currently having a fund raiser, which is actually how I found the link to them, and if I could afford to join right now, I'd do it. As it is, they're on my list of things to do after... Well, sometime at the beginning of the year.
hat tip: taking the brim
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Chapbook Enterprises Breach of Contract
Poetic Acceptance, my chapbook, has apparently been put out of print as of today by way of the unlawful termination of my contract by my publisher Shaela Montague Phillips at Meeting of the Minds Publications/Chapbook Enterprises. The "buy it now" button has been removed from the Chapbook Enterprises webpage despite the fact that our contract stated that in order for it
"to be considered out of print, no copies will have sold for a twelve month period, or the request shall be made in writing and agreed upon by both parties."
My book is listed as
"not currently being sold"(click the above screen shot for a good view of that fact) after only 6 months of availability. There has been no written request or mutual agreement to terminate said contract, nor has there been a written agreement to put Poetic Acceptance out of print.
Also, for the record, despite her promises over the last 24 hours, I've not yet received any payment of the royalties which I was supposed to have received in July of this year. I've even provided her with my Paypal information in order to expedite and simplify that process.
My advice to anyone considering a contract with this company: Don't, unless of course you're looking to begin your publication with an education in what not to do.
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