Still adjusting

I am finding the adjustment to retired life difficult. I frequently find myself multitasking and stressing over getting everything done, then I slap my forehead and go, “Oh yeah, I don’t have to do that any more.”

Progress is happening, but not on formal word count. There was some of that, but I also started a character sheet for something new. It isn’t even to the point of a storyboard right now, but progress is there. I did a bunch of things on the Story Empire front and scheduled my next post.

My big relaxation plan came to a screeching halt last night. I cracked open my last Belgian Triple and turned on the first episode of Season Two of Fallout. I intended to make it a binge kind of night.

I never got to the end of that episode. Frankie needed out for her favorite outside water. I opened the door for her and decided to take my own break. When I returned I saw her on her back, half on the patio, and half on the lawn, and surrounded by vomit. Her little legs were kicking and she was choking.

I managed to upright her and she coughed up some more. This is the second time something like this has happened to her. She plays hard, drinks too much water (colder at that) too fast, and it comes back up. The last time led to her being overnight in an oxygen kennel and cost nearly $2000.

We didn’t wait this time. She did aspirate again, and they wanted to keep her again. We dropped $970 and brought her home. She is a little slow today, but seems otherwise fine. She will be taking antibiotics for a week.

Anyway, aside from dog watch, life is trying to get back to normal. I will pick Fallout back up this afternoon. This leads me to a story.

I grew up listening to Marty Robbins. My mom had the LP of Gunfighter Ballads and I still remember that weird pink background color. He was a family favorite and I even got to see him live at the old Salt Palace in SLC. That album got a ton of play on the old stereo. This was the kind where you could put a stack of LPs on the spindle and play them all. It came in a big wooden cabinet.

This leads me back to Fallout. You probably have to appreciate dark humor and stylized violence as much as I do, but this might be the best ten minutes of television that I have seen in years.

The middle slog… again

I’ve learned over time that every book has one of these eventually. It rushes happily along, I know the ending I want, but somehow the pieces struggle to fit together.

This means I haven’t been overly productive and really didn’t try that hard.

I kept getting flashes of fever as late as the 4th. This was Thursday. It’s been since Monday evening when they pumped that crap into my veins. The chills weren’t like regular fever either. They went from my belt to my arms. No cold feet at all.

Headaches were weird up until the 4th. They weren’t normal and I swear I could feel the blood vessels inside my skull. Modern medicine, what a rush.

They told me to drink tons of water, probably to flush that stuff along with the calcium. Old What’s Her Face gave me a fancy water bottle someone gifted her. It’s basically like an adult sippy-cup. It has marks to tell me a proper daily ration. The Doc said I needed double that.

Basically, I’m like some kind of jellyfish now. Plants could probably grow on me.

I used my tentacles to try writing on Friday. My head felt clear enough, but I didn’t make a ton of progress. Today was a little better, but not by a measurable amount.

Can’t blame medicine for that, but I’d like to. This is the middle slog and I’m very familiar with it.

Maybe it’s time to start a second manuscript. I’ve always been highly productive that way. The good news is I’ve already lost the Halloween season for releasing this “Hat” story. Rather than cry about it, I have something else to release then.

Another manuscript could keep me productive until I work out all the gyrations for this current project.