Don't you know we're riding on the Marrakesh Express...
News from the parental front is that Dad got to go home today. So that was about 9 days in the hospital that he didn't want. But he kept throwing up what he ate for awhile there, and they wouldn't let him go home until he could keep it down, or he'd just have ended up right back there. Lucky Dad. Mom said their dog Sasha was confused and worried, but they've only had her a few months. Also, she sounds like a worrier. Poor girl. Mom brought her to the hospital yesterday afternoon to see him, and they were both happier. Perhaps it helped enough to get Dad's innards to cooperate. (The visit took place outdoors - Dad's been mobile, if slow, since about Tuesday last week.)
Now that he's home, with appointments with various specialists strewn before him like unwanted chores, Mom said (as of this afternoon) that he's much more comfortable and happy. He's not allowed to do any heavy lifting for weeks, which will make gigging interesting. There's a gig this weekend that my brothers were both flying in for, and it turns out it will be much like last year, with them having to do all of the grunt work. It builds character. Dad apparently won't be playing sax at that gig, due to, er, pressure points. Well, he said no tenor or alto sax, but maybe soprano. Honestly, I think he ought to stick to guitar. Wind instruments taking support of said wind, might be pushing stitches. But then again, what's a gig without Dad switching from flute to sax to guitar to vocals to random keyboard to whatever brass instrument they needed but didn't have a player for, and back to sax again? I'm sure that's what he's thinking. I'm thinking he needs to lie down more.
I'll be seeing the fambly all in November, so I didn't plan on going down there this year, even after Dad's ... incident. Mom kept insisting he's fine, and according to the doctors he will be. And we're broke, so we can't swing sudden plane ticket money. Although I was contemplating driving down there if he didn't get better soon. But all's well that ends with Dad out of the hospital and healing up, so I'm spared a long drive.
Life otherwise totters along. I'm writing in fits and starts, but those fits are closer together, and I'm making relatively steady progress, if not quite as quickly as I'd hoped. So I'm clinging to the fact of any progress at all, and still heading for my goal of a finished rough draft with a lightly-polished first 90 pages by World Fantasy. I still think I can do it.
Now that he's home, with appointments with various specialists strewn before him like unwanted chores, Mom said (as of this afternoon) that he's much more comfortable and happy. He's not allowed to do any heavy lifting for weeks, which will make gigging interesting. There's a gig this weekend that my brothers were both flying in for, and it turns out it will be much like last year, with them having to do all of the grunt work. It builds character. Dad apparently won't be playing sax at that gig, due to, er, pressure points. Well, he said no tenor or alto sax, but maybe soprano. Honestly, I think he ought to stick to guitar. Wind instruments taking support of said wind, might be pushing stitches. But then again, what's a gig without Dad switching from flute to sax to guitar to vocals to random keyboard to whatever brass instrument they needed but didn't have a player for, and back to sax again? I'm sure that's what he's thinking. I'm thinking he needs to lie down more.
I'll be seeing the fambly all in November, so I didn't plan on going down there this year, even after Dad's ... incident. Mom kept insisting he's fine, and according to the doctors he will be. And we're broke, so we can't swing sudden plane ticket money. Although I was contemplating driving down there if he didn't get better soon. But all's well that ends with Dad out of the hospital and healing up, so I'm spared a long drive.
Life otherwise totters along. I'm writing in fits and starts, but those fits are closer together, and I'm making relatively steady progress, if not quite as quickly as I'd hoped. So I'm clinging to the fact of any progress at all, and still heading for my goal of a finished rough draft with a lightly-polished first 90 pages by World Fantasy. I still think I can do it.