Lyda Morehouse's Blog, page 77

Shut Down

Last night, at 12:01 am, the state of Minnesota shut down. My partner is out of work.

Yet, despite the financial hardship this is going to cause us, I don't want Governor Dayton to cave to the filthy Republicans. I would apologize for the adjective to any of my Republican friends, but these days I'm finding it harder and harder to keep friends who vote for people who are seriously willing to protect the rich at the expense of the poor.

Jesus wept.

I had to take an IQ test as an adult as part of testing for dyslexia (to check, in point of fact, that I *had* an actual problem and wasn't just a moron. For the record, I passed the test.) At any rate, one of the questions was: "Why do we pay taxes?" We pay taxes so we can have roads and schools and public services of all kinds. The Republicans in office right now don't seem to understand this basic concept. By protecting their rich friends and, presumably themselves, they are bankrupting the state (and the country.) I would (and do) pay my fair share; Dayton would. Why won't they, who have SO much more than the rest of us? The tax rate on the rich is lower now than it was under Reagan, and we all thought we should "Eat the Rich" then!

Christ on a crutch.

In the rest of my life, things continue to suck. Shawn is sick, Mason barfed last night, and I'm still making a very slow recovery from the flu. I actually blame myself for Mason's relapse last night. I thought he was well enough to treat to a Dairy Queen diner after our little trip to the beach yesterday. I was rewarded with the smell of regurgitated French fries all over the bed and floor at about 10:00 pm. o_O

My dad, too, has had a setback. The test for infection came back positive with E. coli. We don't quite know what this means yet, except that the doctors say "this complicates matters." He's in for more tests today, including an MRI. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the doctors will have a plan. Perhaps that's foolish, but hope is the last and greatest affliction that Pandora's box unleashed on us, isn't it?

At any rate, I spent part of last night, after the barfing incident, weeping. I think it's quite obviously because I really want my dad to get better (he's got things to do, places to go!), but weirdly the thing my mind focused on was my yellow belt test. I don't feel ready -- mentally or physically. And, they've changed the rules now so I _can_ fail, and, frankly, I don't need failure in my life at this juncture. I'm waffling this morning about e-mailing KSW and telling them that I need to wait again. It depresses me no end to delay, but it depresses me more to think about going and failing.

Also, they've changed the promotion ceremony too. It's no longer at the end of the test (because its no longer guaranteed,) so going won't even get me the belt. I have to go back on a different weekend for that, IF I pass.

So, I don't know. I once told JKN during a private lesson that the reason I joined KSW was very simple: to have fun. This is really all I want. And, frankly, every class is still fun -- even the ones where I come home exhausted, sweaty and bruised; or the ones where I completely botch an obstacle course at the second station; or when my "high" kick knocks over a chair... actually, those are my favorites. Which is to say, I have NEVER not enjoyed class.

I'm worried that I'm going to start to dread/hate tests.

I wish I could ask not to be promoted.

Recovery

Since I was feeling so sick yesterday, I took the day off as a day of rest. I may do the same today because sleeping seems to have done wonders. My nose is still drippy, but I feel quite a bit recovered. Mason is still low energy, which is very disconcerting for a boy who usually talks a mile a minute while dancing the entire time. He's in the other room streaming episodes of "Shaun the Sheep" from Netflix, and he seems to be giggling a bit more like normal, thank goodness.

One thing I managed to do yesterday is talk to the CONvergence folks. I had thought I was going to be out of town this weekend, so I cancelled all my appearances some time ago. I emailed them asking about day passes, and, they very kindly (as I am a confirmed guest for next year) offered to print out a badge for me to pick up at registration any time. They also, quite AMAZINGLY, even said they could find programming for me, if I'd like, but I declined. I mean, CONvergence is seriously imminent and that seemed a bit too demanding diva, even for me. Besides, I'd like the freedom to just come and go as I please. I can't remember the last time I just attended a con, so it might make a nice change.

So maybe I'll see some of you there?

With any luck, I will be a yellow belt when next you see me -- although the test is later in the evening on Saturday, so maybe not.

In other news, the saga of my father's illness continues. He's been making slow and steady progress conquering the c-def and getting rid of the edema. But he was still have so much trouble with his hip that my folks finally requested a doctor's visit for an x-ray. Guess what? My dad's hip wasn't arthritic at all; it was BROKEN. Probably, the doctors figure it was broken some time ago before all this started, though the physical therapy did NOT do it any good.

Irony anyone?

At any rate, he's going to be scheduled for a hip replacement surgery at some point in the near future (fingers crossed, next week.) But first they have to take a culture of his hip to make sure that there's no sepis virus lingering there. That, unfortunately, takes a week to grow (or not.)

So my poor dad is stuck at the nursing home for at least another week. To say that my parents are getting sick of that place is probably the understatement of the year. Plus, without the physical therapy, there's just not a lot for my dad to _do_. They're working his upper body and one good leg, but this has really become a waiting for the hip replacement game. I'm going to be sending white light in their direction hoping that the sepis virus is not lurking anywhere and that this operation can happen ASAP. The silver lining is that there's a really good indication that my dad will be able to have a "weight-bearing" deal, which means that he can do his remaining recovery at HOME.

That would be awesome.

Anyway, if you have spare "positive energy" or inclined to pray, send thoughts, etc., I'd sure appreciate some of them winging in the direction of my dad. This has been one seriously LONG recovery.

Just a Few Words

I am going to be _so_ bleepity-bleep mad if I catch Mason's cold and miss my up-coming yellow belt test AGAIN.

The coughing this morning doesn't bode well. I may have to try to coax Mason (who is home sick again today) into letting me nap. Maybe I can kill this thing with sleep and vitamin C.

Dangnabit.

Weekend Report

It was a low-key weekend for us, mostly because, after the big sleep-over on Friday (Mason's best frenemy, Donte,) Mason seems to have caught the flu. He was low energy Saturday and completley crashed out on Sunday. I took him to the doctor instead of school this morning, and he was pronounced strep free (for now, it could still culture out in the next day or so.) But, after the one barfing incident on Sunday, I figured what he had was probably the flu. His throat is ultra-sore and he's had a fever and headache. Pretty classic signs, actually.

I managed to get out to Pride for a little bit on Sunday. I was asked to help staff the MNSTF/Geek Partnership booth, and we had an awesome time. We were coaxing people over to the booth with the shiny disco ball beads we were handing out. I would wave them in the sunlight and say, "Pretty. Shiny. Free!" It was interesting to see which of these words attracted people to the booth. Most often it was "shiny." Though some people needed to get all the way to "free." We were supposed to be giving the beads out to people who were noticably our tribe, but instead I insisted that people tell others that "a geek" gave them the beads. jiawen and I made a pretty good team. I'd lure people in with the shiny and she'd give them the MNSTF pitch. A lot of people walked off with literature thanks to her. Unfortunately, I ended up leaving pretty early because I thought Mason and Shawn needed me at home, but wouldn't you know? They were both completely crashed out when I got back. I could have probably stayed until noon. Ah well.

I realized while I was there that y'all are going to be seeing a LOT of me in the upcoming convention season. I'll be at Diversicon 19 in August as a guest this year, at CONvergence AND Gaylaxicon as a guest in 2012. That's a surprising amount of _me_. I hope you won't get sick of me by the time Gaylaxicon roles around....

So now it's Monday and Mason is home sick from school. He's watching Rocky & Bullwinkle episodes in the TV room, and I'm trying to get organized to get some writing done.

My Kind of Luck

Yesterday evening got VERY interesting.

Shawn had to work slightly late, so I picked up Mason at the usual time and went with him to get Breadsmiths (because extra basil was coming in the CSA box and we had plans to have pesto with a baggette.) After that, we parked in our usual pick-up spot at the southeast entrance to the history center. We were there ten minutes early or so, so I switched the car into "lock" and listened to the radio and snoozed, while Mason played pokemon on his DS in the backseat. Pretty much life as usual.

When I see Shawn coming out, I sit up and try to fire up the engine. I get the WEIRDEST sound instead. I should note at this point I have NEVER run down the battery in this car. That is something I have done a thousand times before (sadly), but always with a different car, so this sound sounded... well, BAD. Not your typical "whir, whir" of a starter not getting enough juice, but like "flappity, flappity -- OMG something is seriously loose and wrong!" (I think the engine actually said that last part to me subliminally.)

At any rate, the car would not start.

I have always had used cars so we began the usual process of, "Okay, well, I'll call a taxi for Shawn and Mason and plan to wait for the tow truck, and..." But Shawn's boss came out the door, heard the engine weirdness and said, "That sounds bad. Do you need a ride home?" (He lives not but a few blocks south of us, actually.) So, I sent Shawn and Mason home with him, and called AAA.

Triple-A was probably the most frustrating part of this story, if only because it was so very clear that I was talking to someone not from St. Paul. I was at the HISTORY CENTER. It's not a difficult building for most native St. Paulies to identify. You may have never been there in your life, but if I said, "John Ireland Boulevard and Kellogg" most people would have a pretty good idea where in St. Paul I was talking about. I even HAD the exact street address and explain that given the size of the building the driver should probably know what part of the building I was closest to. But she had no idea what I was talking about. When the local shop called back, however, it was pretty simple.

Then I called my friend Sean M. Murphy to see about getting a ride to Wyrdsmiths later that night. He said he was "nearby" (turns out he was just being kind, bless his soul,) and would come hang out with me until the tow truck came. This cheered me no end because not only do I hate waiting, but also because my cell phone battery was dying and I was glad to know that, in an emergency, I could borrow his.

He showed up and less than five minutes later so did the tow truck.

Here's where the awesome begins.

The tow truck guy instantly recognizes the sound as a dead battery and gives me a jump. He checks the alternator and the battery and pronounces the alternator fine, but the batttery WICKED old. So I drive myself (with Murphy following) to my mechanic, Grand Sinclair I. There the guy hems and haws about whether or not they might have my battery in stock (I have BEGGED them to try to fix it tonight, or I was going to drive myself to a car store and buy my own dang battery), but he says, "Well, we might have one around" pointing to the seven pathetic looking batteries on a tiny shelf.

Murphy, meanwhile, who has this superpower, had gone out to the boulevard and found (I kid you not) a four-leaf clover. He slaps in on the counter while the receptionist is off getting the mechanic and tells me, "They'll have the right battery." Frankly, I believe him. I've seen him use this Irish magic before to win prizes and all sorts of things. Sure enough the mechanic comes back, looks up the battery size, and the other guy finds it... the second to last one on the shelf.

They tell me they'll have it done in a half hour or less (as they're finishing up the last car of the day.) So Murphy drives me to pick up my CSA box (I'm the second to last one there) and we have him over for bread and pesto. He drops me back off at the garage right before leaving for Wyrdsmiths, and less than 130 bucks later (they didn't even charge me for labor, which is why I love this garage) I have a working car again.

So, it was a series of unfortunate events, but weirdly lucky all at the same time.

I didn't finish my short story, but I did get a rejection of a reprint that I'd sent off to Fantasy Magazine. This weekend I plan to have it done, so I can really start focusing on the new Tate novel.

Today, however, I may have to mow my boulevard as my neighbor is taking advantage of the sunshine to do that and I don't want to look like the one long-haired freak, as it were.

Cat Vibes vs. Chores

OMG, my cat is trying to kill my productivity. Ms. Ball has drapped herself over my arms and is exuding those warm, cozy cat vibes that psychologically compell you to want to sleep, snuggle... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Luckily, I'm irritating her by typing. The tail is twitching. I will win this battle, especially since I've wisely ensconced myself this morning in front of the gerbil cages AND the bird feeder. Something besides lulling me into a stupor is going to interest this cat eventually. Right?

Right?

HELP! Call for reinforcments! I'm going down.

Okay, I broke down and actually pushed her off. My arms are cold. Whine.

Yeah, today is supposed to be my busy day. I've already changed two kitty litter boxes (we have five) and put the recycling out on the curb. I need to do the dishes, change the gerbil bedding (or, as we've been calling them lately, the "stinky mice") and change at least one of the fish tanks. I go to volunteer at Mason's school later today, there's kuk sool wan tonight (first time back since my ankle twist fall), and possibly a Wyrdsmith's meeting.

I wanted to have a short story finished for Wyrdsmiths tonight. I may try to work on it today as a break between chores. It's a horror story in a science fiction setting, and I'm getting to the horror part... which I'm not always very good at. Horror, IMHO, needs a rich atmosphere, full of creepy, subtle details. I've got a corpse in the church, but I'm afraid I need to describe it more. Luckily, there's room. I've only got 4,000 words or so so far and I'm shooting for about 7,000 give or take. I'm really 2/3rds of the way through the plot (I think, you know how these things can change,) so if I say another 1,000 some words would finish it off, that gives me lots of space to go back and layer in that critical creepy atmosphere.

I also realize that I've actually accidentally been writing a response to "Leviathan, Wherefor Art Thou" -- at least from what I can tell, since I haven't read it yet. I may finish mine and then go check it out. But from what other people have said about it, I'm tackling some of the same issues... except from a completely different perspective.

Anyway, I've got to get started on all that stuff.

Not Much, You?

Just a little self-promotion today. Check out SF Signal's Mind Meld. I'm part of a group discussing "What cultures are neglected by SF/F?" today.

Otherwise, it being Wednesday, is my day to write with Eleanor over at the Coffee Grounds. I've got a ton of things on my plate. I'm super behind on the new Tate novel (the cow mutilation one), I've got a short story that's popping out despite the bigger deadline, AND my agent needs some proposals for new books ASAP.

As Shawn and I like to say: STUFF TO DO!

My only other news is that I submitted a reprint to Fantasy Magazine. I still can not find even a paper copy of "Twelve Traditions" in the basement (did it go to the archive??) so I was forced to send fantasy instead. (The horror!) Anyway, fingers crossed.

Okay, got to go!

Whale Songs of Time Passed

I didn't post yesterday because, over the weekend, my wireless hotspot died. I'm beginning to think we may have always had a slightly defective model, but what happened (in the simplest terms) was that stuff that was supposed to stay on the inside came outside. Bad, right? The good news is that CLEAR sent a replacement right away. I called them on Friday morning and we had a new modem-y-thing/hotspot by Monday afternoon.

I was on-line long enough to check my email, but I had to use... GASP... dial-up. Yeah, I still have it. Actually, you'd be surprised how often it comes in handy to have a low-tech back-up. Of course, this from the woman who still can't even find a PAPER copy of her "12 Traditions" short story to re-key/have someone scan.

This morning we had a lot tears. Mason can be downright rude on ocassion and Mom and I are losing patience with him. We've asked him to start saying "please" and "thank you" instead of just rudely saying things like, "Get that for me." The only change we'd like is a please in front of that, you know? My brilliant thought this morning was that if he continues to be rude, we'll have him put 50 cents of his allowance into a "politeness jar." A physical and monetary reminder to add a please or a thank you.

Well, Mason FREAKED (which, as I told him, only cemented the need for this new policy.) I mean, you'd think we'd asked him to cut off a limb. But, despite wicked allergies this morning, I managed to stay firm and very calmly remind him over and over and over and over that we are only asking for basic politeness. He won't lose anything if he can remember to say "please." This isn't about taking things away from him for no good reason, it's about making the stakes important enough to inspire him to REALLY change and to think about what he's doing.

Mason sometimes has weird disconnects about this stuff, particularly in terms of consequences for behavior. We've worked on this a lot, with varying degrees of success, but sometimes he doesn't seem to GET that he can be responsible for/manage how he presents himself to the world, even when (internally) he feels a different way. He also has a surprising (to me, every time) defeatest/fatalistic attitude about inacting changes in behavior. Basically, I get a lot of, "I can't change who I am." To which, I constantly and consistantly reply, "Yes, but you can change how you talk (or react or whatever)."

I partially blame myself for this. I mean, I've always told him that expressing his feelings is okay. Now I'm seemingly changing the rules by telling him to alter the way in which he expresses his feelings. I've been trying to approach this by reminding him that it's still okay to have the emotions he has, but he just needs to take a breath before screaming or being rude and consider other options.

Alas, this is probably a life-long project. And one I'm not sure I'm particularly well suited for. I've always been a fairly empathetic person. I think it's one of the things that makes me a good writer. It's never difficult for me to put myself in someone else's position, imagine as parents might ask, "how would you'd feel if someone said (or did) that to YOU?" Mason has a lot more difficulty going there, and that baffles me. I waste a lot of my parenting time wondering why he isn't more like me. I just need to remember he's not as intuitively empathetic and that these things do not come naturally for him, and start there.... instead of having whiplash each time this comes up.

What so baffling about this politeness issue is that Shawn and I are constantly modeling the behavior we'd like to see. I can hardly ask for something without adding a "please" automatically. So it's not like we're expecting him to do something we haven't ALWAYS done in front of him.

I think that another thing that's hard as a parent. I kind of always assumed that my kid would pick up on behavoirs he sees me doing. He's certainly picked up my out-going, talkitive nature. I see plenty of my least favorite personality traits showing up in his behavior. Why not this one? Why did this one bounce off?

Well, I think that after tha LONG and exhaustive talk we had today about it, things might be sinking in. I'm going to make our "politeness jar" now and hope that we've had some kind of break through.

Ankle Bummage

Yesterday I fell down the concrete steps outside my house, having twisted my ankle on something (a root?) At any rate, the good news is that I'm only suffering from a twisted ankle because I went into a roll that probably saved me from serious back or head injury. (Thank you kuk sool wan.)

The bad news is that I'm missing (AGAIN) my yellow belt test. The ankle is sore and the test is two hours of intense jumping around. I don't want to injure myself further, and I want to be able to go back Monday and keep practicing. The test will wait for me to feel better.

I'm sad, even though it really DOESN'T matter to me when I get my belt. This whole thing has always been about the journey. I'm just bummed because this will be the third time I've had to skip it. Well, I hadn't really figured out my acts of kindness anyway. (It's required to do at least 5 acts of kindness before each test.)

Revisions Done! (Well, for Now, Anyway)

At ten o'clock last night, I sent off my revisions for Ana #3. Despite feeling like my editor was a moron for at least a week, I'm happy to say I'm over that. Her suggestions, I'm forced to admit, very likely made this a much better book.

Now, I SHOULD be working on the book that's due in a matter of weeks. I'm so far behind on that one, though, that I'm going to spend the remainder of the week working on a NEW short story idea that's been kicking around in my head.

The other thing I did last night was throw myself around like a rag doll at the kuk sool wan super seminar, or, as I like to call it, Jedi Academy. We did the MOST awesome thing where we did what I call a flying roll (really just a front roll from a dead run) over a staff, which we picked up on the way over and defended against an instructor weilding a lightsaber, er, I mean, bamboo practice sword.

It was f**king AWESOME.

I have never had so much fun in my life, while in so much pain. (Oh, and Dr. Arugala, my asthma medicine totally works! I took it beforehand and, for the first time since developing exercise induced asthma I had a stitch in my side without a corresponding coughing fit.) Also, I'm ridiculously proud of myself for learning the "flying roll" since at my level (still white belt, yellow stripe) I'm only supposed to know how to do it from a kneeling position. Additionally, I'm pleased that I only managed to screw up on my the very last of my last roll when I forgot to go over my shoulder and totally crunched my neck. I've been stretching the sore muscle and slathering on muscle stuff, and this morning it's stiff but not unbearably messed up. Yay!

I am a Jedi!!!

(Apprentice... but still!)