And I just remembered that you don't read Bitches, and that was the only place I posted the stress du jour -- Dad is in the hospital yet again, but not for cardiac reasons this time. He's had abdominal pain for 5-6 weeks, and a full battery of tests/scans/etc. haven't yielded a cause. It's maddening.

But I was freaked out yesterday, since I know how to deal with his cardiac issues, but the abdominal pain is an unknown.

Anyway. I'll have a topic shortly.

Oh, Teppy, damn - here's hoping they know what it is, and that it's something that can be fixed simply and painlessly.

Deb, much ~ma to you today. Also, I know I still owe you an e-mail, but I am having a bad week with my health. I will e-mail you soon.

Oy. Get healthy, love.

The mystery phone call has been accomplished, and I am a very happy camper, all things considered. But I can't go into any details yet, because it's tricky.

Okay. I finally got my brain back in a creative mode, rather than a stress--response mode.

Challenge #96 (the outside reflects the inside) is now closed.

Challenge #97 is camouflage.

Drabble: camouflage

A dark gray suit, a pale blue shirt, and a subdued tie let me blend right in with the rest of the office party crowd. A glass of ginger ale over ice cubes fills my left hand, leaving the right one free for the occasional handshake or one of those reserved half-waves of recognition through the crush. Three circuits of the room--speaking little, saying less--and I can make my escape. I mingle, make eye contact, nod, smile, and keep moving. Soon I’ll be able to slip away home, change out of the corporate uniform, and be myself again.

dcp, nice one.

No Relation, 1973

The cardiac unit waiting room at SF General is always full of people. Men still get heart attacks more often than women do; most of those waiting for news are women. They share the drawn worried look, the twisting together of hands, the bands on the same finger.

I wear no band. I have no right to be here, except that the woman with the ring is definitively elsewhere. I'm here because I'm who he asked them to call.

I fold my ringless hands in my lap, hoping the drawn worry in my face will hide my lack of status.

Damn, deb.

Also, crap, 'cause I know what mine needs to be about and I don't wanna.

Damn, deb.

Yeah. Add to that, I was a few weeks short of nineteen years old.

Also, crap, 'cause I know what mine needs to be about and I don't wanna.

Ouch, ouch, OUCH. No fun when they make you bleed.

flail, flail, flail

So, I, um, have an agent. I'm about to start working on a book proposal; by April 1st, I need to have a chapter summary finished.

I am, as Pete would say, gobsmacked.