But the biggest reason, by far, was ego. Some people have the ability to
"not take it personally" when flaws and errors (or just plain glitches) are pointed out in what they've created, worked on constructing, and invested reputation and possible future success in. Most don't, And, depending on numerous factors, some of those who don't don't in rather counterproductive fashion. The old "that's not a bug; that's an undocumented feature" trope on steroids, with a side order of "discredit the messenger".

How much ahead of the announced beginning of the reading period for THE LADIES OF TRADE TOWN would the first submission land in the mailbox?

And the answer is: two months. Yep, the first Very Special Snowflake wafted down two months to the day in advance of the the opening of the reading period.

Friday morning, about 5:15am, I woke up firmly convinced that someone had broken into the house and had me pinned to the bed by a red-hot boar spear. I was shocky, pale, nauseous, and according to the thermometer, I'd been dead at least 36 hours. And boyhowdy, did I ever hurt.

So much so that I considered calling an ambulance. But I couldn't figure out the logistics: getting the house locked up, getting a wheelchair transported with me, that kind of thing. Plus going to the ER, which might have resulted in being sent into surgery was not something I wanted to do, let alone do without a spouse in the waiting room making sure they didn't lose me.

So I reached for the painkillers and toughed it out. I'd come to every two or three hours, throw up, wait for the stomach to settle down, knock back some water and another painkiller, and go unconscious again. I was hoping to break the gall bladder spasms per instructions from the surgeon I saw about ten years ago when I had my last major attack.

I was up and more-or-less awake when Himself got in from the airport, and managed to hold down a little of the wonton soup he stopped for along the way. Then it was back to the above routine, which has continued through the weekend. The good news is that my periods of being "up", with a somewhat diminished level of pain, are getitng longer.

If you know me, you know I love Halloween. It's one of the few times of the year when I voluntarily put up with children at my door. Given how I was feeling on Saturday evening, we decided to leave the porch light off and not take part. I know it's the first time since we've lived here that we've done that, and I'm fairly sure it's the first time we've done that since we've been married. I was not happy about it, or about skipping the religious observances later in the evening, but I really didn't have much choice.

The cycle continues, although I've been able to keep the pain tamped down to about half of what I woke up with Friday. And it's probably just as well, since while Himself is home from Boston, he's not really here.

He's been holed up in his office working on stuff for the coming week at the office. He will be completely out of reach for the majority of the week, what with company bigwigs coming in for FDA-approval stuff. If I died, I'd have doubts he'd even notice.

Anyone know where I can find a spare spouse?

On the upside, Himself is surviving his time in Boston, and reports things going well.

Also on the upside, I spent a lovely little while this morning answering a short list of interview questions for a piece on how editors of anthologies work. Good questions that were a good bit of fun to answer.

Those who know me know that I go into something like an alert status when soloing at home. My "antennae" are up, even while I'm asleep. This week, for some reason, I seem to be alert a few steps above my usual. My antennae have been twitching a lot, I've started leaving the house alarm on except when I'm toddling out for the mail, and I notice I'm doing more than the usual number of perimeter checks during the day. Weirdish, but I didn't live this long without trusting my instincts.

And I don't know whether to be more or less nervous that the felines have been sticking even closer than normal. They seem to be swapping out lap and back of chair duty between them, but it isn't often that both are any farther away than that.

Friday evening can't get here any too soon.

Himself has slogged off through the cold rain for DFW Airport, with plans and intentions to hop a plane for Boston. Business trip to the U.S. corporate offices. Plans have him getting home Friday evening.

Here at HarpHaven, the barricades have been raised, weapons are at hand, the larder is stocked, and I've a number of projects and a sizable to-be-read stack to keep me from going completely stir-crazy. No guarantees about not going partially stir-crazy.

Good thoughts for travelers would be welcome.

First stop, a nearby branch of the library, which is hosting early voting. The parking lot was nearly full, and we ended up parking quite a way from the door. Turns out there must have been a particularly popular library program, because the number of voters (2, i.e., us) were outnumbered by polling place staff. This year's ballot involved proposed amendments to the Texas Constitution, eleven of them, I think), most having to do with taxes, tax boards, bonds, and such. One was of particular interest, and if it passes, it will define how and to whose benefit "eminent domain" can be applied. Let's just say that Jerry Jones is probably very glad it won't be retroactive if it passes. Frankly, in a state governed by Rick Perry, I'm surprised it ever made it to the referendum stage.

Once we'd done our civic duty, we headed to a nearby Ojeda's for lunch. Good Tex-Mex and pleasant service, always a happy experience. The next stop on our merry rounds got postponed a bit when Hubby got a phone call reminding him he had a 'script at the Tom Thumb at Preston & Beltline. Which solved a mystery that was going to have to wait a week to be resolved; the whereabouts of a 'script that was supposed to get called into the Tom Thumb at Preston & Park. So we took a sidetrip south to pick it up, so he'd have it for his trip.

Then it was back on track to Wal*Mart and stocking up on supplies for me during the coming stint at being a bachelorette. Ye gods, but it was crowded. But we finally managed to get what we went for and get checked out without it taking all day. A run past the gas station to fill up the CripMobile (just in case), and then we dragged on home.

I'm doing laundry so Hubby has office attire to pack tomorrow, and trying to decide if I can nap between loads. I seem to be fading rather quickly this evening.

The new office and exam rooms are spacious and very wheel-friendly. And aside from the dance we had to do getting me into it in less than drowned-rat conditions (we've had a steady downpour going since before we left the house a bit after 8am), not bad at all. Sign-in was smooth, and I'd barely locked the wheels on the chair when I was being called in.

On the thumbs-up side of things: there was a sign on the door directing patients with the flu or flu-like symptoms to a second waiting room somewhat isolated from the main one. Good thinking, that. There was no attempt made to direct me toward the scales. Nurse taking vitals only bobbled once, when she assumed the 110/80 BP couldn't be right and wanted to take it again on the other arm. I told her that was normal for me, and she backed right off without argument. Time spent with my doctor didn't feel rushed, we had a good discussion of the pros and cons of doing an MRI, the logistics of getting a mammogram at a facility that was actually accessible and didn't insist that it had to be done with me standing without support (I ran into that earlier in the year and refused to court a fall), and a couple of spinal chord therapies she's pointed me toward to do some research on.

Two thumbs up for the slickest, most pain-free blood draw I've ever encountered. The nurse was in and had three vials drawn before I felt anything. And we both got our seasonal flu shots. The shipment arrived yesterday afternoon, once again proving that timing is everything.

I'm not entirely free for the year. Lab results should be back next week, and there might be something in there that will prompt a discussion of nifty new drugs. But that's next week.

I finally got coffee and food at the fourteen-hour mark. Scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns and pumpkin pancakes. Ahhhhh.

Hopefully, the reaction to the flu shot won't last much more than 24 hours. And the doctor has me on the H1N1 shot list at the nearby pharmacy that's handling them for her. I'll be keeping an eye on that.

With all due respect to medical professionals who visit these parts, and to my own GP when she's not having to toe the company line in the interest of greater profits for the corporation, I'm not terribly fond of the American Medical System. I've spent entirely too many years trying to survive it.

With luck, I'll maintain a calm exterior while dealing with the usual B.S., not throttle any witless nurses, and manage to wave off this year's round of shiny new pharmaceuticals aimed at curing what doesn't ail me. If I'm really lucky, my sentient veins won't go stealthy the minute the needles come out.

Did I mention I purely despise annual physicals?

In my email box today was a query from a gentleman asking if I was open to poetry for THE LADIES OF TRADE TOWN. Now, in section of the guidelines where is addressed what I'm not looking for is a sentence that begins "Also not looking for poetry..." Ahem.

Not saying my mind couldn't be changed on that point. It's happened once before, when Jane Yolen sent me a gem that ultimately became the opener for SUCH A PRETTY FACE. But unless this guy's name is "Jane Yolen" -- and it's not -- I'll stick with what the guidelines say.

Also in the guidelines is the caveat that I'm not open to stories that have been "workshopped" on-line. But there have been two -- yes, two -- denizens of a well-known online venue who've written to explain how said venue is password-protected and shouldn't be considered the same way as other online workshops. Uh...no.

So sing it with me, fellow travelers: "Read the guidelines. Read the guidelines. Read the bloody guidelines.

I did manage to do everything I had scheduled for today finished. Incipient veggie-beef soup now resides in fridge and pantry, in preparation for a long, slow simmer toward its ultimate tasty demise. And the HarpHaven website has just now been updated. And yes, I know: about damned time.

Tomorrow (Monday), I'll be getting a visit from the heating and air-conditioner tech for Fall Maintenance. He'll check over the furnace, change the filter, and hopefully tell me I'm good to go for Heating Season.

Wednesday morning, it's off to my doctor's office for my yearly savaging, otherwise known as "the annual physical". I love my doc, but I absolutely despise the ritual. Esp. this year when I run the risk of exposure to not only seasonal flu, but H1N1 flu as well. This would be a really bad year to catch anything, what with Hubby having three trips out of town between now and mid-December. And that's not even counting the annual game of "chase down a vein" for blood tests and dealing with a chirpy nurse insisting I can hop right out of the wheelchair and onto the scales. You'd think the wheelchair and the "do not ask to weigh" would be dead giveaways.

Saturday, it's a stock-up run to the grocery in preparation for Hubby heading out of town for a week on the following Monday.

Yep, it's gonna be one of those weeks.

Definitely what my grandda called "good sleeping weather". And I've been doing some of that, snugged under the covers and firmly camped in dreamland. It does a body good.

Good progress being made on catch-up from recent travels. About the only thing left to do is updating the HarpHaven website, which is on tap for today. I also have a trip to the grocery planned, for the purpose of securing the makings for a big pot of veggie-beef soup on Monday.

One part of the catching-up was both a personal record-breaker and a real bummer: declining three convention invitations in the same 24-hour period. One being held on the same weekend as the second-biggest convention of my year, to which I'm already promised. One within the first few weeks of the reading period for TRADE TOWN, when I expect to be buried in the initial avalanche of submissions. And one of my annual favorites, which regrettably falls the weekend before my ToastMistress gig at MidSouthCon, for which I need to be fully-charged and well-rested. Practical considerations and common sense holding sway, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. This getting-old thing well and truly sucks.

I've also taken a look at several of the writing projects in the queue and started the back burner chewing on them again. Judging from my dreams last night, back burner is chugging right along on at least two of them, and creative output to screen should be forthcoming shortly.

So all in all, a productive, restful weekend so far. And yours?

For the second trip in a row (and yeah, I already know I'm going to pay for that bit of good fortune) all components of getting from Point A to Point B and back went off without a hitch. Unlike the last trip, the hotel scored a rousing thumbs-up on 95% of my interactions with them. The in-house restaurant, in particular, got high marks for good food at reasonable prices. And I made sure the management got praised for their accessibility solutions, which were excellent and consistently worked.

As for the convention itself, it was superb in all regards. The host group had it together in grand fashion and were splendid hosts. I was warmly greeted by both friends made at previous Gaylaxicons and folks who rapidly became new friends. A great bunch of folks in attendance, and so many good conversations I lost count.

My program items, fairly evenly split between spec. fiction topics and social issues, were among the most enjoyable of the year. Good audiences, wonderful co-panelists, and just plain fun.

And I saw snow. Actual, white-stuff-on-the-ground (three or so inch accumulation by the time I left the hotel on Monday, with big, fat, fluffy flakes coming down at a furious clip most of the morning. A bit of the shock to the system, but pretty.

I can't think of a better finale to my convention year. I closed it out with much laughter, much good conversation, and a very good trip. My thanks to all the folks who put this fine convention together for inviting me to be part of it.

Coffee IV plugged in - Check

Final battening down of hatches - Check

Out the door heading for the airport - Ere shortly.

Heading out this morning for Minneapolis and my last scheduled convention for 2009, Gaylaxicon. A weekend full of fun, good panels, good conversations, and laughter is in the offing, and I'm looking forward to closing out my convention year with a good one.

This morning's check of the Minneapolis weather forecast held a bit of a shock. Saturday morning holds a 70% chance of SNOW. Let me say that again: SNOW. The fluffy white stuff that is seen in Texas only occasionally and usually in January or February. I'm going from temperatures in the high 70s, low 80s to sub-freezing temperatures and SNOW. I'm having a little trouble wrapping my mind around that one.

Good thoughts for safe travel would not be amiss here.

And speaking of here, you folks know the drill. Pet the cats, don't scare the spouse, and don't do any redecorating of the environs that can't be undone with shaped charges.

Wheels UP!

It felt really odd packing cold-weather clothes, given temperatures in the 70s to low 80s around here. But a look at the 10-day forecast predicts highs in the low-to-mid 40's, and lows around 30. It's been quite some time since my body has experienced freezing temps. It generally takes a few days to adjust to cold. Rolling into cold at the end of a couple of hours on an airplane is going to be a shock to the system. Layers will the be order of the weekend.

On the up side, I didn't have to do any repacking. The large suitcase weighed in at about 43 lbs, the small one at 25 lbs. Go, me!

On a further up note, as of this morning the chances of rain in Minneapolis have greatly diminished. That cold and wet, and I'd be doing my panels curled around a perpetual mug of hot tea and bundled up to the earlobes. I'm still taking the Rubber Ducky poncho, famed in song, story, and blackmail photos, but only as a just-in-case.

On tap for today: charging everything with a battery. Tucking last-thing items into briefcase, backpack, and field vest. Wash hair. And go to bed reallyreally early.

Yesterday's portion of the packing went well enough that I'm back on profile from having had migraine-related downtime for two days prior. A jacket I was hoping would make it here in time to pack did, in fact, arrive.

Plans for today involve packing the suitcases. I'd reallyreally like to do it in one, but it's a toss-up as to whether that's possible, both in terms of weight and volume.

And the weather is throwing me another curve. A couple of hundred miles out is a major storm front, headed this way, and already the atmosphere is unsettled, oppressive, and triggerish. I am beseeching the weather gods not to take me down with another migraine; I simply don't have time.