I first agreed to learn how to shoot because, A) I wanted to be like Linda Hamilton in Terminator, and B) because they were something I didn't want to be afraid of. I respect the hell out of them, think there are far too many of them, and loads of the wrong people have them. Knowing how they feel when they go off informs my writing tremendously. If confronted with one, I know its--and likely the shooter's--limitations. Going to shoot one once will move them from ominous mystery to just ominous.

ION, Hubby's not doing well. He's picked up a gastric infection that is being very stubborn about responding to antibiotics. He's up in ICU. The infection is messing with his heart and is pushing his pulse up, which is making it hard for him to breathe. They intubated him today to take the pressure of breathing off him, so he called me today, since this will be the last time he'll be able to talk until they get that out of him. He's confined to bed, and he's going to be restrained so he doesn't try to pull it out. He's already freaking out from being confined to bed. This is messing with his mind as much as his body. I'm going up on Friday to talk to his doctors and hold his hand.

And a bit ago there was a knock on the door. A friendly older gentleman, "Hi, I'm a representative from Lincoln Funeral Care. Your husband returned a card asking for information." Maybe he did. I kind of don't think so, we've been pissed about the attention of the funeral industry, and if he dies of this he's not getting a standard funeral. In any case, he didn't say anything to me about it, and he wouldn't have agreed to have someone come to the house.

So I told the guy I didn't know anything about it, Hubby's in the hospital, I don't want to talk to you. "But he sent back the card. Who else would send in the card?" "I don't know, but I didn't know about it. I'll let him know you were here." "Where is he?" "Huntsman Cancer Hospital." "Oh, well I hope it's not terminal." "So do I." "Oh, you don't know?" "Not yet." He'd handed me a print out of Hubby's information with some boilerplate about the funeral information, and he hinted that I could give it back to him. I told him I'd let Hubby see it.

I didn't swear at him once! Yay, me!

Just as well I took the day off, what with all the phone tag today. Maybe if I don't take days off things will go smoother.

God. That has to be the most insensitive...

I feel you on all of that, Steph, esp the gun range. I want to go to a shooting range some day, but DH is so anti-gun it makes it hard to bring it up.

And this?

So really, I am whining over ONE speaker. But it's a stranger! And therefore scary and might drain my life force over the phone because that's how phones work!

I was asked to direct the Undergraduate Writers' Conference for my department and it's a big ol' honor so I had to say yes, but getting the speaker every year? This X 100, oh my God! Because it's both phone anxiety plus Imposter Syndrome. Ugh. And it's just me being stupid because I KNOW WRITERS. But the guy before me was a published poet and he got all these big names and ... wilt...

I didn't swear at him once! Yay, me!

That sounds like a considerable accomplishment.

Wow, Connie.

Continuing ~ma for your hubby.

Shit Connie, I'd have been so tempted to shut the door in his face.

I am so sorry to hear things aren't going well. I will remind you that's it's always a roller coaster and to take heart that infections can clear up quickly, but intubation, restraints, it all must be very scary. Sending lots of strength and ~ma your way.

This is why he's up there, because it is a difficult time, and this is the kind of thing they do all the time. Probably the best hospital in the state is connected to the Huntsman by a skybridge.

Job ~ma, Sue!

Oh, Connie, your restraint is admirable, for not slamming the door on his face. Yes I said on.

Because it's both phone anxiety plus Imposter Syndrome. Ugh.

Burrell, Ugh indeed. Double whammy.

Oh and Plei, my Ancient Resins showed up today. I love it. It smells like a catacomb.

my Ancient Resins

this sounds...like something out of Indiana Jones.