Signed, Sealed, Delivered...I'm Yours

My signature is going to be somewhat shaky, but it will still bear the mark of joy.

With trembling fingers and tears in my eyes, I signed a contract today for the publication of my very first, (all mine!) my name on the cover, my work on all of the pages, paper and print, bound in a glossy cover--actual book.

(Dramatic pause while you all wrap around the magnitude of the announcement.)

Suburban Diva, my precocious pen-name, is going to be publishing some of her past works and a few new ones, in a book soon to be available on Amazon and the like, by Christmas, 2005.

(The crowd gasps, women fan themselves to keep from fainting.)

If I can pull this off--which I have every cell of my being on full creative alert--this will be available for everyone on your holiday gift list.

(Yuletide gratitude is heard over the Internet.)

There are many details to be attended to, but the most significant one, I am going to be published, seems to be the only one I can remember at the moment. There is soon to be a website bearing details and press releases, but for now, you can contact my publisher. (God, how sweet those 2 words are together!)


Author: Tracey Henry.~Me, today on my contract.

Come Monday

What an insane weekend.

First off: Amy. The little chicken's fever spiked to 105.7, (sounds like an FM radio station) and we went back to the doctor for another shot of the antibiotic. Her blood work showed that her infection was responding to the medication, even though her temperature indicated the opposite.

It finally broke Saturday night, but she is still wiped out today. Cranky, exhausted...just like her mother, only I didn't get 10 needle sticks over 2 days.

But another literary event occurred which helped to quell my exhaustion into euphoria. I am not at liberty to reveal the exact contents of my secret at this moment, but suffice it to say, I may be in the column to your left sooner rather than later, my well-read friends.

Wink.

Typhoid Amy

Oy. Last week you'll recall Baby Diva getting pink eye and an ear infection? Well, here we were on day 9 of the antibiotic regimen with clear eyes, but a raging fever of 105. So, being the observant mother I am, I think, this is probably not normal, better get her to the doctor.

After a particularly long examination, it is determined that eyes, lungs, ears and throat are clear. They take a CBC which indicates an elevated white cell count: infection.

Without being told, I know this stunning revelation will now require my baby to be catheterized. I then predict that no medical professional will be able to catheterize her (as we've been done this road before) and that it won't matter anyway, because I know she doesn't have a UTI.

I am a freaking soothsayer, because after 7 hours at the hospital, all of said things are true.

She did get I.V. antibiotics and several blood draws in the interim, so the preliminary diagnosis is a blood infection. I have to take her back in tomorrow to repeat the tests after 24 hours and get more results.

As soon as the last drop from her IV seeped into her tortured veins, she started to feel better. Her fever has come down some, but certainly still boiling.

There is nothing worse than holding your baby down while someone hurts her, no matter how necessary the procedure may be. Or not.

I will update more on Typhoid Amy this weekend.

Rain

It may not be the most prestigious publication, but a story of mine was just accepted to an online site. (I'll post the details and link in a week or so.) The triumph here is more that I have finally started to submit my work again, after a long hiatus from the mailbox. I guess I didn't realize how long it had been since I was out there, so it feels good to stick my little toe out there again, anyway.

The outer rain bands of Rita are coming through--scary when you think of how far away the actual storm is from us and how heavy the rain and wind gusts were on the far edges. We even lost power for a short while. It's going to be another nasty one, unfortunately.

It's nap time, so I am off to write or watch Court TV all afternoon.

Books

So, last night I finally finished, Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides. It was the Pultizer Prize winner a year or so ago, and often after reading an acclaimed book, I ask myself, how in the hell did that win?

It was well-written, don't get me wrong, and I suppose the subject matter was ground-breaking (a suburban hermaphrodite), but Pulitzer Prize material? I'm not buying it.
(Well, actually, I did buy it, but it was the paperback edition, thankfully.)


The weekend was wonderful--Phoebe was an amazing performer and a very special time was had by all.

And now, I am off to enjoy the last remaining moments of Amy's nap, with a shut eye session of my own...Sshhhh...

So, What are you doing this weekend, SubD?

It occurs to me that perhaps I've been a tad more political than my usual carefree self these past couple 'o weeks. Well, that's because I'm a political kind of gal.

But as a nice respite from worrying over the state of the union, I shall report on my upcoming weekend plans for any of those still reading.

My nieces and Bro in-law arrived in town last night so that my niece, Phoebe, can perform tomorrow night. Who will she be the opening act for? you ask, voice full of wanton curiosity. Oh, just a little artist, really. You've probably never even heard of him. Paul McCartney? I think he was popular with his band in the 60's.

PAUL MCFREAKINGCARTNEY.

Quite a talent this girl is. She's been treating us to impromptu concerts that, I kid you not, send chills up my arms.

This afternoon, she was at Starbuck's and broke out her guitar for a little practice for tomorrow night. 2 agent types just happen to be in the joint, and took notice. After giving her father their business cards, he gets a call about 10 minutes after arriving home with an offer for a local performance tonight. They are there right now.

Unbelievable.

So, I will be enjoying these melodic sounds this weekend--hope you all have some harmony as well.

Dead lines

The 15th of every month is scramble day, as I once again have one assignment for the magazine left undone by my own arrogance or laziness, or a lethal combination of both.

I need about 250 words, and at 8:30 p.m., I am up to 96 having expended all of my needless adverbs and adjectives after the first sentence. Oy.

I got nothin' here, folks. Nada. Zippo. Zilch.

There's 3...


Writing comes more easily if
you have something to say.

~ Sholem Asch

In my Inbox today...

This was from The Onion back in January, 2001, it recently resurfaced as prophecy...

Mere days from assuming the presidency and closing the door on eight years of Bill Clinton, president-elect George W. Bush assured the nation in a televised address Tuesday that "our long national nightmare of peace and prosperity is finally over."

"My fellow Americans," Bush said, "at long last, we have reached the end of the dark period in American history that will come to be known as the Clinton Era, eight long years characterized by unprecedented economic expansion, a sharp decrease in crime, and sustained peace overseas. The time has come to put all of that behind us."

Bush swore to do "everything in [his] power" to undo the damage wrought by Clinton's two terms in office, including selling off the national parks to developers, going into massive debt to develop expensive and impractical weapons technologies, and passing sweeping budget cuts that drive the mentally ill out of hospitals and onto the street.

During the 40-minute speech, Bush also promised to bring an end to the severe war drought that plagued the nation under Clinton, assuring citizens that the U.S. will engage in at least one Gulf War-level armed conflict in the next four years.

"You better believe we're going to mix it up with somebody at some point during my administration," said Bush, who plans a 250 percent boost in military spending. "Unlike my predecessor, I am fully committed to putting soldiers in battle situations. Otherwise, what is the point of even having a military?"

If you didn't laugh sometimes, you'd cry.

One of the problems...

...is that the only sense of urgency ever expressed by officials on all levels was the furtive nature which they cover their own asses.


But I'm fighting a summer cold and am perfectly miserable at the moment. The only highlight of my week came when I heard on the radio twice The Sugarhill Gang's "Rapper's Delight," which, I'm poud to say I still know all of the words--to the long version no less.


I don't mean to brag, I don't mean to boast, but we like hot butter on our breakfast toast.

Promotion

It's certainly not the biggest news to hit the blogosphere, but in my little humble part it ranks up there.

I've just been named Editor In Chief of Backwash, Suburban Diva's and my home for the past 2 1/2 years.

Insignificant? Probably. But it puts a smile on my face nonetheless.

Katrina

Have you noticed a national apprehension lately?

Obviously, there are those that have been victimized by this hurricane far more than others, but I can't help but feel as nation, we're all suffering on a different level.

There's the politics of it all--which is amazing that a natural disaster could become so political so fast, but I suppose in a climate such as it is, it really isn't that surprising.

We had a dinner party the other night with people we really don't know all that well yet, when the table discussion turned toward the recovery efforts, or lack thereof. The guest, riled up to a frenzy on whether or not the city should be rebuilt, whips out photos of city busses underwater that he printed off the Internet.

We now need a dossier to discuss a national tragedy? It was surreal.

Sean's been working disaster relief non-stop for the past week. His Labor Day weekend was spent loading truck after truck with relief supplies. We both have given more than we have in any other crisis, both in time, goods and cash. Yet somehow there isn't the slightest satisfaction in giving.

Not that there isn't the desperate need and we will continue our personal efforts, it just seems that the situation is so poisoned, it feels like you have to take sides on human devastation.

And that is seriously fucked up.


I'll leave you with a quote from W's mother, Babs, that I first read on Ver's blog, and then later on the news:

Almost everyone I've talked to says we're going to move to Houston...What I'm hearing which is sort of scary is they all want to stay in Texas. Everyone is
so overwhelmed by the hospitality.

And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this--this (she chuckles slightly) is working very well for them.

Laborious

Fine--I'll go on record as repeating the obvious--this is a national disgrace. It is of little comfort to note that the President's leadership is abysmal, both domestically and abroad.

Now that that is out of the way, I sit to update as I am cleaning the oven. Of course I have a self-cleaning model, but this is the first time I have actually flipped the switch on that function since this technological miracle had somehow eluded me for a year.

We are entertaining tomorrow, so I was busy in the kitchen today preparing. I like parties on that Sunday of a long weekend--a day before to prepare--a day following to relax. Balance...

The week was a long one, I was glad to slip into the confines of a Saturday with little to do. Sean's been busy at work--their hurricane relief is in full gear, and there is a lot to do. Bless them all.

I think I'll be off now to start a new novel and finish the oven.

Happy Labor Day, all.



"Get off your asses and let's do something." ~Mayor Ray Nagin to the Feds.