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Thanks for all the warm congrats!
We spoke with our agent today. Because now we have an agent! Actually, it was a conference call so that we could meet and assess our new agent.
We said that Mom had laryngitis. So Dad put the phone on speakerphone, and when Mom had something to say, she whispered it and Dad repeated it for us. We were worried that the ICU machines would start beeping, or a nurse would walk in. But nothing happened. And so the agent never knew that she was talking to someone who can't be released down from intensive care until they can remove three tubes from her chest. To keep the liquid draining from around her chest. She is easily out of breath - like from eating - when the fluid accumulates in her chest.
Mom and Dad do not want either the agent or the editor to know that she's in the throes. I'm not sure I would be so secretive, but then again, I type up my dirty laundry and air it publically. Like Pancho, I wear my dirty undies outside my clothes, for all the honest world to see. I respect their decision, though.
This Saturday I am taking students to a conference. I didn't want to spend the night, but the dang thing is four hours away. So we're leaving at 5 am, and getting back at 11 pm or so, and there are eight hours of driving in between. I really resent it. I want my weekend. I have a bunch of shit to get done. I don't want a long, exhausting day, another day of pumping and not seeing Hawaiian Punch. I don't want a one-day weekend, and then to dive back in to another week. I resent the unspoken charities that you do to get tenure.
This semester seems particularly full of these faux-charities. I've got five students that I'm doing senior research projects with. There are scavenger hunts and Honors Book Clubs and conferences. And committees, and IM soccer teams, and grading. And whenever there's a break, we've spent it flying to see Mom and Dad or getting married.
Eh, ignore me. I'm just tired.
We spoke with our agent today. Because now we have an agent! Actually, it was a conference call so that we could meet and assess our new agent.
We said that Mom had laryngitis. So Dad put the phone on speakerphone, and when Mom had something to say, she whispered it and Dad repeated it for us. We were worried that the ICU machines would start beeping, or a nurse would walk in. But nothing happened. And so the agent never knew that she was talking to someone who can't be released down from intensive care until they can remove three tubes from her chest. To keep the liquid draining from around her chest. She is easily out of breath - like from eating - when the fluid accumulates in her chest.
Mom and Dad do not want either the agent or the editor to know that she's in the throes. I'm not sure I would be so secretive, but then again, I type up my dirty laundry and air it publically. Like Pancho, I wear my dirty undies outside my clothes, for all the honest world to see. I respect their decision, though.
This Saturday I am taking students to a conference. I didn't want to spend the night, but the dang thing is four hours away. So we're leaving at 5 am, and getting back at 11 pm or so, and there are eight hours of driving in between. I really resent it. I want my weekend. I have a bunch of shit to get done. I don't want a long, exhausting day, another day of pumping and not seeing Hawaiian Punch. I don't want a one-day weekend, and then to dive back in to another week. I resent the unspoken charities that you do to get tenure.
This semester seems particularly full of these faux-charities. I've got five students that I'm doing senior research projects with. There are scavenger hunts and Honors Book Clubs and conferences. And committees, and IM soccer teams, and grading. And whenever there's a break, we've spent it flying to see Mom and Dad or getting married.
Eh, ignore me. I'm just tired.