Scarlet Letters

I have not said much publicly because, frankly, just about everyone who knows us is on Jim's Facebook feed as well as mine. So most of you know that his mother has been in the hospital and is not doing well. Tonight we got word that they have to stop dialysis for her, as her heart simply can't take the strain. That ends most of the lifesaving options, and all that is left now is to make her as comfortable and pain-free as possible. Jim is catching a bus to Memphis tomorrow night (tonight, when you're reading this). He and his brother will drive down to Jackson, Miss. on Thursday, so Jim can say his goodbyes. From there we play it by ear, as it is all in God's good graces now. I don't have the words for what Jim and his family is going through, or anything like coherent words to write about Pauline and what she means to us. I hope those words will come, because it's all I know how to do.  In the meantime, I ask your prayers, good thoughts and heal...

Our awesome bungee trip to visit the folks this weekend came with an extra bonus. Well, besides retrieving the Spawn. It was a bungee trip because I had to work Sunday, so we booked it back in the wee hours of Sunday morning so I'd be back to start my shift. But at least we had 48 hours to hang out with my dad and stepmom at their awesome lake house. Friday was highlighted by parasailing over the Lake of the Ozarks. Boy and I had the most awesome time. It was an amazing experience, with a spectacular view and not at all scary or insecure - hell, the seats on the Sky Screamer at Six Flags sway more than that parasail harness did. Jim did not fly. Jim is a giant chicken-man who stayed on the ground sipping beer with my folks. He still owes me for the hot-air balloon ride that didn't happen the day after we got engaged, and now he owes me parasailing too. Bawk bawk bawk, husband-o-mine. Wahoo! The next day was a ride on their boat, which they still  haven't named,...

Why is it that the massive disasters strike just when it's most inconvenient? And is there any way I can blame Isabel the Ghost for this? Look, we don't have huge amounts of money. We manage to keep our heads above water by dogpaddling really really fast. We put a bit of our paychecks aside each week into two funds: one for Christmas, and one for "vacation." Now, "vacation" is a malleable concept. This year, "vacation" meant the Fourth of July in Memphis, which allowed Boy to see his father and allowed us to pick up Stepson for his summer visit. That put two teenage boys in the house (milk count: nine gallons in six days) and the costs of two outings: a day at the St. Louis Science Center for Jim to do the male bonding thing over the robots exhibit - pout, I had to work - and our annual sojourn to Six Flags. This is why we are both sunburned within an inch of our lives. It was a crazy, loud, fun week, and that our savings were pretty well dep...

So here, have an adorable grandbaby instead. Happy Independence Day!

Word count: 1,891. I've had worse sessions. I have two projects I plan to complete during the month of writing like a madwoman. I know if I don't get them done this month, they won't get done for a long time, because the fall schedule is brutal. However, I'm going to have to dig out my old wrist brace, because Ye Olde Wrist is aching something fierce and it's just the first day. Once those projects are done, I'm kind of at loose ends. There's a number of things I can choose to do, but none that are contracted. I could write the final novel of the Blackfire series and tell y'all how Major Sara Harvey's battles with the zombies end up. That series is out of print and we're down to three copies of The Cold Ones.    If I do write the final part, I might try to repackage it in a compendium edition as we did with the three vampire novels for Nocturne Infernum . I could write the next vampire novel. Outlines for at least three more books exist, ...

While I was pregnant with Boy, I went through the precertification and piles o' paperwork in advance of his birth so the nonsense would be fairly limited when it came time to deliver the baby. As we were filling out the paperwork, I saw that they put my first husband's name down as the responsible party with his Social Security number. "Wait," I said. "I'm the patient, and our insurance is through my employment. Please don't do that." "I'm sorry," she replied. "It's hospital policy. The husband is always the responsible party for medical bills." I begged. I pleaded. I had already fought enough battles with that HMO to know that unless my name was on everything including graven images marked with blood, they would deny the claims. Besides, it was 1998, not 1958. Why in bloody hell did my husband have to be the responsible party? I handled the bills, the insurance was in my name through my employment. But he had the ...