Nada. Zilch. Nothing. Orr maybe a lot.

I have been delinquent about blogging but mostly because I don't have much to say. There is so much in the world to be distressed about but most of it has been all over Facebook and some in the media. The missing schoolgirls in Nigeria for instance--finally the media has taken up the cause and now the horrifying mass kidnapping is getting plenty of international attention. But where was the outrage when it happened?
Or the House investigation of Benghazi. Really? Again? I thought that was a dead issue--the White House even admitted that security was lax. And nobody seems to realize there were something like eight raids on embassies during the Bush administration with sixty people killed. But now the House (Republicans) are alarmed because four people were killed in a raid on a consulate, where the ambassador just happened to be visiting. Could the House more profitably spend its money on climate research--which the President made into a big media deal today--and recovery efforts from the devastating winter we've had, with costs in the billions?
Meantime my little insular life seems to go along peacefully, and it almost makes me feel guilty. Life at my age seems to consist of a lot of doctor appointments, though I think I've gotten them over in a batch now--family practitioner, dermatologist. dentist, audiologist tomorrow. Today it was the vet for Sophie's annual checkup, and she was pronounced a healthy, happy dog. And lunch with friends takes a chunk of my days but I am so grateful for that--lunch today with a longtime good friend. Our paths have diverged--mine as much as hers--but it's good that we catch up every once in a while. And tomorrow my favorite colleague (and now good friend) from TCU Press is coming here for tuna salad. We have lots to catch up on.
Somewhere in all this I have a novel to write, blogs to write, and all the other stuff--and  a new life plan I may be ready to talk about soon. Meantime, my life is good--I wish I could say that for the world as we pray over wildfires in Okahoma, drought in Texas, and man-made disasters that threaten our world.
Be safe everyone.
 

It's easy to be lost in April

At least, it’s easy to be lost this April. We never know if it’s winter, spring or summer, at least in Texas. And look at all that snow in Colorado in late April! Yesterday the temperature was balmy, the day delightful and sunny. Today it is overcast and cold, in the upper 40s, to go to the upper 30s tonight, with a chill factor well below that (I do wish they’d stop telling us the chill factor!). By the weekend, it will be 80 again. My plants are confused…and so am I. I have a hydrangea that I want to take outside for brief spells to “harden” it, but there’s no sense doing that in weather this cold. And my sweet potato plants are drooping—in fact, one just gave up the ghost. Glad I didn’t buy those cherry tomatoes yet. My brother said tonight in doleful tones, “Summer is over.” I told him we haven’t had it yet, and he said, “Oh, I thought  it was awfully short.”

And I’m sort of at loose ends anyway. Finished first edits on a manuscript last night. Tomorrow it goes to my mentor (need to think of a better descriptive term)—if he says, “This is trash,” in the trash it goes. If he says it has possibilities, back to editing. I know one thing it needs is a better sense of place, so yesterday I drew a map of the fictional town, one of the university (it’s what Fred calls an academic novel meaning it’s not academic in itself but it’s set on a campus), one of the protagonist’s house, and one of her boyfriend’s house. But I’m on hold until he reads it. Meantime I have a novel to review but it’s hard to pull yourself quickly from one fictional world to another, so I’m stalling.

And this is a doctor week for me. Today I went to the ophthalmologist, an appointment I always dread for several reasons. It went much more smoothly than I anticipated, and I do not need the laser treatment he anticipated I would. Good news. Hope the next two go as smoothly.

Life is always uncertain, even the small things. Tonight we waited to hear if they would cancel Jacob’s baseball game because of weather. 5:30 came, so we all trooped to the Grill for supper, and still no word. The staff asked, “Is everybody going to the game?” “Not me,” I replied. “It’s cold  out.” So after supper I saw them off to the game and retreated to my warm house. It’s a night to go to bed early. Jordan just texted on her way home and said, "So cold!"

Maybe tomorrow will be spring again.

Waltzing Mathilda...no, that's not right

Walking Pneumonia, not Waltzing Mathilda--that's what I have. An insult to me, who claims to never get sick. My mom had a philosophy: if you woke up not feeling well, you just got up and went about your day and pretty soon you felt a lot better. I applied that to my kids so much that one friend complained that they had to have a 105 fever before I let them stay home from school. But they are healthy people today! I remember once when Jamie was six or seven and given to dizzy spells that no one could diagnose, he told me he was too dizzy to get out of bed. "Nonsense," I said as I hauled him to his feet. "See? You're just fine." Then I let go and he crumped in a pile on the floor.
Well that's sort of what happened to me. For six days I kept telling myself this deep cough would get better; indeed I was improving. But this morning at five after a sleepless night I suddenly decided that was hogwash and it was time for the doctor to confirm my own diagnosis: walking pneumonia. I blustered through a long morning in the doctor's office, an x-ray clinic and finally a pharmacy, but I could feel I was losing it. I left the prescriptions at a pharmacy by Jordan's office so she could easily pick them up and went home to bed.
Jordan did pick up the medicine, 7-Up, cough drops, soup, saltines, etc. and came and tucked me in. Then she got Jacob from school, which I had until noon been prepared to do and discovered I had no more stamina for that than for running around the block. She takes good care of me, and I am most grateful.
Coming home at noon was a changing moment: I went from carrying on for the world to being sick and treating myself like an invalid, which I guess I'll do for the next couple of days. Slept all afternoon, got up for a couple of hours, and crept back to bed. Now I've been up an hour and a half, and I'm about to go back to bed, armed with cough drops, 7-Up, and a syrup that is supposed to help me sleep.
In a way, it's kind of nice. I can do this in-and-out-of-bed thing for a couple of days--reading, writing, sleeping. And yet I've ignored all the work that's piled on my desk in favor of reading a mystery. Tomorrow I may do a little menu planning--though I'm not much interested in food right now, and I may get back to the book I was almost finished editing and the guest blog I need to write.
Maybe there's something to giving in and occasionally admitting that you really don't feel well--as long as it doesn't become a habit.