Day in the Life of an Idiot

 I have a window open and the sun is shining on my face. It's a gorgeous day. 

Of course, I instantly looked at the leaves still covering much of our front gardens and yard and thought, "Someone should take care of that." Since I am sitting in the upstairs sunporch, apparently decided that that 'someone,' was not, in fact, me. At leas not right at this minute. I might have to go out and poke around a little. It's REALLY nice out. 

We'll see. I don't actually have a huge amount of time before I have to get ready to go pick up Eleanor. It's Friday, so a group of us are meeting for our usual hangout at Claddaugh. 

Mason's home sick again, though. This one was a bad one. Migraines are like that, though. He emphatically did not want to deal with the fact that rebound headaches are a thing. as is a need to recover from the first one, (and was in such a state that he convinced himself that a second absence = utter and complete failure.)  Thus, we were half way to school before I made the executive decision to turn him back around. 

I wish I understood how better to talk to Mason about the high standards he puts on himself. I'm sure, if I had taken him to school and he'd had some kind of physical or mental collapse the school would be looking at us demanding to know why we push him so damn hard.

We don't. This is all him. I am constantly talking to him about how grades aren't the end all, be all. I know that he definitely got the message from the University of Chicago's dean that transcripts matter, but I tried to explain to him 1) attendance isn't EVER looked at, 2) particularly if the overall GPA is good. And, GOOD, it doesn't have to be only A+s from here on out, either. What they are REALLY looking at is that you've challenged yourself, taken the hard classes that might net you a B, but are not "Basketweaving 101."

Mason seems also quite convinced that successful people never take breaks. Given that both me and his mom do, I'm guessing he either doesn't think we're successful (a possibility) or he must have superheroes for colleagues (or both.)  Because I asked him, "Are you saying NO ONE in your classes is ever sick two days in a row?" He was convinced this morning, at any rate, that no, none of them are EVER out sick more than one day, and then only once every blue moon. I have no idea how to counter that. Only later did it occur to me that there's something wonky about this thinking that goes beyond the obvious. Obviously, people can do well and be out sick more than one day. However, what is this strange benchmark in Mason's mind even saying about people who are chronically sick? Are they automatic failures? When did attendance = intelligence, anyway? I have no idea what's going on with him this morning, except, I suspect, he's just feeling panicked because AP tests are coming in a week and the migraine exhausted him to the point of hysteria.

Both of which are legit.

But which make me feel even better about putting my foot down and demanding he pay attention to what his body is telling him.

I was thinking I might write up my thoughts about last week's Sherlock, but, given the lack of response I got from my previous post, I'm going to guess that most of my friends aren't watching the show.

If you watched it and gave up, I'd be curious to know why.

Just in case yo were wondering, the second episode this season totally redeemed itself in my book. They even addressed, explicitly, my issue with Mary. Milage for other fans may vary; Shawn was not as pleased, though she thought the ending was worthwhile.  Thing is, I have this weird thing about drug addicts. For some unknown reason, I LOVE stories about them. When I was a kid th book Go Ask Alice was super popular. I remember finding it at my tiny little north branch library one summer and being so excited to start reading it that I did, on my way home--while riding my bike.

I hit a parked car.

Yes, kids, I'm here to tell you, bicycling and reading do NOT mix.

But, somehow none of that put me off either bicycling or reading about drug addicts.  I loved the cyberpunk movement in the 80s because there was always some junkie in the background.  Visual Mark in Pat Cadigan's Synners, one of my favorites, and his line, "Change for the machine."

In other news, I finally heard BACK from one of my pen pals!  A woman in Australia wrote back and told me all about her cat!  Also, the German woman who sent me glitter has written again. (I love her! She's super chatty and always includes something fun like a postcard!) And, out of the blue, ON THE SAME DAY, I also got another letter from a German also NOT on my list.  So, what the hey.  I think I'm probably in the running for about 30 pen pals. So, that's actually pretty cool.  I have no idea why I enjoy this so much, but I am rather fond of other people and I have always LOVED getting mail.

Mason has been home from school for the last two days. He got a wicked case of stomach flu.  The BRATTY diet to the rescue and he seems to finally be on the mend.  The hardest part about having a sick teenager is that he can basically take care of himself. He even cleaned up his own puke without prompting, leaving moms to just wring hands in worry wishing there was something more we could do.  I mean, I've been able to make food and whatnot (the R? Rice? A super cure in our house) but, otherwise... I kind of miss when he needed me a bit more.  :-(

Shawn ended up at home today, too. She wasn't sick, but the weather outside was "frightful" as the song says, and she got a late enough start by accident (alarm got turned off) that she just decided on a mental health day.  We did end up having to fight the slick roads and snow to get her to her neurology appointment for an annual check-in regarding her migraines. She still gets them on a regular basis, which *I* don't feel is managed, but...*shrugs* It's up to Shawn what she can tolerate. I do worry about her since her sense of pain is so skewed that the doctor that took out her gallbladder actually asked how tolerate she was to pain--he figured given the state of her gallbladder it must be pretty damn HIGH.

That's about all I know. How's by you?

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.

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.

Mason woke up this morning and instantly had diarrhea. Two minutes later: barf. A half hour later, when it was still going on, I got on-line and called him in sick via an e-mail to his teacher. Meanwhile, Shawn came down with a headache. She e-mailed in sick to work as well. I ended up having to e-mail Eleanor to cancel our writing date, which is pretty much the same as calling in sick, too.

I was starting to feel like a character in a murder mystery, except instead becoming corpses, everyone around me was getting terribly ill.

Mason, being the deeply resilent source of energy he is, was sick for several hours and then did a complete recovery complete with wanting to jump on the bed his mom was sleeping in and BEGGING me to take him to the library (which I did not do. No barfing on books. This is an important lesson I pass on from the day I barfed on an early Legion of Superheroes comicbook belonging to my cousin.)

Last night, at Wyrdsmiths, I brought along my computer (partly to check in on the last minute cancelations but also for the free wifi,) and discovered that my editor had sent along the cover art for Tate's young adult novel:



What do you think?

My editor thinks it pretty much "hits the market" (as in she thinks it's the sort of thing that is found on YA covers right now.) I think the cover model for "Anastasjia" is wicked hot. If the cover is supposed to be someone you wish you were, count me in.

Anyway, I should check in on my sickies. Have a great weekend!