Friday, October 21, 2016

At Glacial Speed. . .

The first rejection comes almost three months after sending the completed manuscript of the Civil War novel to my agent. An editor for a major publishing house has been looking at it and has, alas, decided to pass.

This doesn't come as a surprise, as my agent and I both suspected the book was too "literary" to be the sort of commercial blockbuster the house is really looking for.  It's a business decision, of course. So, no hard feelings and Ann the agent will forge ahead, trying other editors whom she thinks will be more open to this book.

The rejecting editor said nice things about "pitch-perfect and utterly authentic" language -- at the same time noting it may be daunting and a little "chewy" for a reader looking for an escape. 

I'm not apologizing for this book. It's written the way it needed to be told and I have faith it will find a sympathetic publisher and, in time, an audience.

In time being the operative phrase. Things rarely happen quickly in publishing so now we can just settle in for a nice contemplative wait . . . Thus the pictures of the glaciers, courtesy of Patagonia's Glacier Park.

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Miss Birdie and the Show

Well, what about that show last night, Lizzie Beth honey? The folks here was a little ill with me after the other one -- the one where that hateful orange-faced, yaller-haired feller, which I don't believe that's his natural color a tall, was prowling around while Miss Hillary was talking, making faces and interrupting after she had sat all polite and quiet whilst he was going on.

I got so put out with the way that he was doing that one time whilst she was talking and he was creeping up behind her, I kindly forgot it was on the TV and I hollered "Look out, honey, he's right behind you!" and flung my water cup at him.

There weren't but a little water in it and it didn't do no harm but the nurse come and talked with me about how I had ought to behave if I wanted to watch the show last night. So I promised to do my best but said maybe they had ought to make sure I didn't have nothing in reach but for the button I mash if I need someone. 

Him and me both done better last night. He didn't prowl around and I didn't throw nothing. But, lord have mercy, didn't no one ever teach him not to interrupt all the time? His mama had ought to have slapped him twist-legged back when he was a young un. I admire Miss Hillary for not back-handing him when he kept butting in on her and calling her names. She's a strong one.

And when that referee feller asked would each of them go by what the voters had said, win  or lose, and he said that would depend on what happened -- I tell you, Lizzie Beth, I never heard of such a thing. Just like a spoiled young un who sees he's losing a checkers games and will dash the board and pieces to the ground rather than admit he lost.

But this ain't no game. It's our country and our government and our votes. His folks sure done a bad job not to teach him better. 

My vote? Oh, don't worry. I already put in for voting by mail. The quicker I can send in my vote for Miss Hillary, the better. 

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

The News

Yesterday I was taken to the orthopedic surgeon so he could assess how my injuries were healing.

On the whole, the news is encouraging: the broken ankle seems to be healing nicely; cast and stitches were removed and I was fitted with a boot -- which is only marginally less cumbersome but can come off for baths and PT. He gave me exercises for the dislocated shoulder-- still must go cautiously there for another four weeks. 

The big (8x3 cm) laceration on my right leg --  has been a bit of a concern because it had a big patch of dead skin (eschar) in the middle that needed to be removed. ("It's dead; it won't hurt when I pull it off--(insert howl of pain) oh, sorry, didn't realize there was a stitch in it.")

When eschar and stitches were all removed, the doctor declared the wound free of infection. (Yay!)

The unhappy news is that the ankle is non-weight bearing for six more weeks. At best. After which I return to the doctor for x-rays and further assessment. So it seems I'm stuck  in this facility for at least that long...

Happy news, if you'll excuse my mentioning it, is that I've graduated from the bed pan to the bedside commode. I still need help to make the transfer via sliding board; nonetheless, it's a bit of a victory.

I enjoyed my outing -- the autumn colors advancing, and being able to see the mountains . . .

But best of all was the magnificent Peregrine falcon I saw from the van. He was perched on a guard rail just outside an underpass, waiting, no doubt, for one of the pigeons that roost there. He was a gorgeous reminder of the Wild Things out these. (N0, not my picture -- from Pinterest. The others are mine, of a waterwheel in Cherokee.)

Sunday, October 16, 2016

Lapsus Linguae

The nice CNA who was rolling me off to the shower room asked me just how I'd gotten so banged up.

So I launched into the story yet again . . . "I stopped the truck by the garden because I wanted to pick up some pumpkins-"

 "Pumpkins?" she squealed. "Pumpkins?"

It took me a minute. "Oh," I said, "Punkins, I meant punkins. 

I'm not from around here, am I?