Sigh. We were all set to have a great three-day weekend. A stroll down the Pearl
Street Mall so Drew could people watch. An early dinner at the Melting Pot to celebrate Mark's recent success at the local poker tables. A relaxing holiday during which I was hoping to get some extra writing time. The weekend even started out really well with Friday's mail. Mark received his PhD diploma so he can frame it and point to it to get underlings to call him "doctor." And I received just about the nicest, most encouraging form rejection letter possible for the publishing business. (Yes, Carson's Learning was not accepted to the Interstitial Arts Foundation's anthology, but the form letter asked me to submit again when they were ready for their second installmant of their anthologies in 2008.)
Then Mark got pretty darn sick in the night and spent all of day either barfing, passed out asleep, or sitting on the porcelain throne. Seeing as how I'm still not close to 100% yet after finishing the second round of antibiotics and dealing with the stress of this week's meeting, it was not the ideal time for him to be out of commission. Somehow I managed to keep up with Andrew despite the fact that he barely napped and seemed to have found some sort of mythical source of unlimited energy. (By the way, he's got a fifth tooth popping through now; one day we'll get a very clear picture.)
The weather was pretty foul today, so the stroll down Pearl Street was going to happen even had Mark been healthy. We've had to cancel our Melting Pot reservations as Mark gets green just hearing the word "Jell-O" at the moment. I'm still holding out hope for Monday, though, at least to garner me a good nap if nothing else.
Even with the craziness of the week, I got my minimum word counts in every night but tonight (and even managed an extra 600 words last night; now that SciFi Friday and Monk & Psych are all in their breaks, I might start scheduling writing on Fridays--though that will only be for this month as October brings the return of Battlestar Gallactica on Fridays). My health is improving still, and I should be very much my usual self by next weekend if not sooner.
Oh, and the meeting with the pres went very well. There was a lot of panic as we had serious technical difficulties in our review and ended up being late to the meeting as we tried to straighten them out (good news there is that I'm low enough on the totem pole that others get the black mark for that...I think). In the group critique session that Teresa Nielsen Hayden ran at my first convention, she asked if I had ever sat in on executive meetings before (I think the dialog and tone of a scene in HD--that I have since cut--didn't ring true for her). Well, now I can say that I have, though the DDJ is a smaller company than Eugene's in HD.
That remdins me. As I've been sharing the story with co-workers and hearing the "wow, how did you do this at your age" comments from the docs, I've put the entire urosepsis (and, indeed, all of the strange and plentiful health issues of the past almost two years) into a category of research for my writing. I can now write a very tense birthing scene, an accurate if mild ICU scene, and describe what it's like to have in-home health care. And so much more. Too bad I don't write medical thrillers. :)