Blizzard warning!
There's a Nor'easter heading our way so we're stocking up on wine, chocolate and books.
Okay, Mum and I are. Dwayne apparently thinks wood, water and gas for the generator are essentials too. Oh, and chocolate. He agrees with the chocolate. And the wine.
So we're good.
Let it snow. We're ready.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Jane went to Florida last Wednesday for a week - to Disney! - then the typesetter, Mickie, was called away for a family illness. So all of a sudden, I was the It Girl.
As in, that's it, that's all. The only person doing the paper. To explain: the publisher and the editor place ads, some stories and photos but Jane and I create the ads, fill the classifieds, update church notices, check insertion orders, edit of what's actually on a page - sometimes the biggest job - PDF the paper to the printer, and upload to the website. Not to mention Jane and I are the only ones who know how to build ads so basically, without Jane AND me, the paper wouldn't go out.
That's an awesome responsibility and I love it. It's a slow time of year so the best time for two people to be away. Charlie and I split Mickie's work: He took care of the community news (some of it comes in handwritten) and I did the obits. Monday was never rushed or crazy; just a steady day of good work.
"I try not to put all my eggs in one basket," the boss said to me. That's why he keeps Mickie on two half-days a week. "But it looks like you're the only egg."
"Just as long as I'm the good egg," I said.
As in, that's it, that's all. The only person doing the paper. To explain: the publisher and the editor place ads, some stories and photos but Jane and I create the ads, fill the classifieds, update church notices, check insertion orders, edit of what's actually on a page - sometimes the biggest job - PDF the paper to the printer, and upload to the website. Not to mention Jane and I are the only ones who know how to build ads so basically, without Jane AND me, the paper wouldn't go out.
That's an awesome responsibility and I love it. It's a slow time of year so the best time for two people to be away. Charlie and I split Mickie's work: He took care of the community news (some of it comes in handwritten) and I did the obits. Monday was never rushed or crazy; just a steady day of good work.
"I try not to put all my eggs in one basket," the boss said to me. That's why he keeps Mickie on two half-days a week. "But it looks like you're the only egg."
"Just as long as I'm the good egg," I said.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Saturday, February 2, 2013
My mother arrived home at 8:30 Wednesday night.
This morning, I attempted a self-lobotomy.
Need I say more?
Actually, in all fairness, Mum has arrived home at the very best time. After the agent rejected my book, I contacted Melva, the editor who helped me with my manuscript in the fall of 2011. I wanted her to look at my query letter and book proposal. We spoke last night.
Awe-some. She suggested a re-focus, making my query and proposal about the good things that came out of my caregiving time, not merely a story about how awful Alzheimer is ("This is not another horror story about Alzheimer disease"). She listed three points my query/proposal should highlight:
1) how I discovered things about both of my parents that I would not otherwise have learned
2) that my book, with its focus on the spirituality of Alz. and my honesty about the mistakes I made, will help to de-stigmatize the disease, help calm the "dread" and fear with which people react to the word,
and 3) how current and pertinent my book is, especially given the home vs. facility challenge that we faced, an issue that is going to become increasingly significant as our population ages, as the diagnoses of AD increase, and the number of nursing home beds and nursing facilities remain the same, or worse, decrease.
Basically, make it positive, not dreadful; make it hopeful, not full of fear and pain.
Mum's benefit in all this is to be my sounding board. I lie on her bed while she sits in her chair and I run all these ideas by her. By talking it out, I figure it out.
"I hope you're writing all this down," is the running joke. Because neither of us do.
Dwayne is a good listener but he can't do the back-and-forth discussions; Mum knows the story and she's well-read so when it comes to reworking the query letter and proposal, she becomes an integral part of that.
Melva also told me to never give up. "The market goes in cycles," she said. "It make take four or five or ten years, but your book will sell."
The best thing she told me? The mother of a friend of hers was diagnosed with AD and she was in denial, scared of the dreaded word "Alzheimer" and what happens to someone with it. Melva told her about me and my belief that the person still exists no matter how the disease affects them. Because she had read my book, she was able to share my story and help someone.
That is exactly the kind of book I wanted to write.
This morning, I attempted a self-lobotomy.
Need I say more?
Actually, in all fairness, Mum has arrived home at the very best time. After the agent rejected my book, I contacted Melva, the editor who helped me with my manuscript in the fall of 2011. I wanted her to look at my query letter and book proposal. We spoke last night.
Awe-some. She suggested a re-focus, making my query and proposal about the good things that came out of my caregiving time, not merely a story about how awful Alzheimer is ("This is not another horror story about Alzheimer disease"). She listed three points my query/proposal should highlight:
1) how I discovered things about both of my parents that I would not otherwise have learned
2) that my book, with its focus on the spirituality of Alz. and my honesty about the mistakes I made, will help to de-stigmatize the disease, help calm the "dread" and fear with which people react to the word,
and 3) how current and pertinent my book is, especially given the home vs. facility challenge that we faced, an issue that is going to become increasingly significant as our population ages, as the diagnoses of AD increase, and the number of nursing home beds and nursing facilities remain the same, or worse, decrease.
Basically, make it positive, not dreadful; make it hopeful, not full of fear and pain.
Mum's benefit in all this is to be my sounding board. I lie on her bed while she sits in her chair and I run all these ideas by her. By talking it out, I figure it out.
"I hope you're writing all this down," is the running joke. Because neither of us do.
Dwayne is a good listener but he can't do the back-and-forth discussions; Mum knows the story and she's well-read so when it comes to reworking the query letter and proposal, she becomes an integral part of that.
Melva also told me to never give up. "The market goes in cycles," she said. "It make take four or five or ten years, but your book will sell."
The best thing she told me? The mother of a friend of hers was diagnosed with AD and she was in denial, scared of the dreaded word "Alzheimer" and what happens to someone with it. Melva told her about me and my belief that the person still exists no matter how the disease affects them. Because she had read my book, she was able to share my story and help someone.
That is exactly the kind of book I wanted to write.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
My mother is making an epic return to Nova Scotia.
A three day trip if you're rested and the weather is good; Mum will be lucky if she is here in five days.
After leaving Georgia on Sunday, she spent an entire day resting in Stanton, Virginia. I talked to her last night where she was in Massachusetts, south of Boston. She's still a long way from home since New Hampshire to Oxford is 12 hours, and she might be driving into freezing rain. Might. If she reaches New Brunswick late today, it should have changed to rain by then. Saint John is only three hours from home but that's a loooong three hours when it's seven in the evening.
Tomorrow, though, they're calling for rain and 110 km/hr wind gusts over the Tantramar Marsh so whenever she shows up, she's being welcomed with typical Maritime winter weather.
How white will her knuckles be?
A three day trip if you're rested and the weather is good; Mum will be lucky if she is here in five days.
After leaving Georgia on Sunday, she spent an entire day resting in Stanton, Virginia. I talked to her last night where she was in Massachusetts, south of Boston. She's still a long way from home since New Hampshire to Oxford is 12 hours, and she might be driving into freezing rain. Might. If she reaches New Brunswick late today, it should have changed to rain by then. Saint John is only three hours from home but that's a loooong three hours when it's seven in the evening.
Tomorrow, though, they're calling for rain and 110 km/hr wind gusts over the Tantramar Marsh so whenever she shows up, she's being welcomed with typical Maritime winter weather.
How white will her knuckles be?
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