I have a confession to make.
No, it’s not that I am secretly La Grande Duchesse de Gerolstein, mooning over manly Fritz and hoping to thwart General Boum. Neither am I the Signora Psyche Zenobia (tn Sukey Snobbs), wandering through Europe with my African page boy, pet monkey, and 5 inch tall pet poodle as I search for clock towers suitable for self-decapitation. I’m not even Thomas Chatterton, although I once dyed my hair bright red for a Halloween party.
(Note to self: NEVER DO THAT AGAIN, EVER)
No, it’s nothing about my identity, my pets, my family, or my friends; I really did have an aunt who thought Mozart wrote the Italian Symphony, a long-suffering mother who once owned five dozen cats, and a father whose parents thought it was a good idea to stuff a twelve year old into a white dinner jacket. I really do own a fluffy gray cat, and my basement really did flood last fall.
And yes, I do have a mild but still amusing obsession with Captain America and medieval quilts, not necessarily in that order.
So the basics of my life as portrayed in these diaries...that’s pretty much me. But it’s not all of me. I have never mentioned my employer’s name, and I never will since, y’know, I enjoy my job (and my 401(k), and my health insurance, and even planning the annual holiday dinner even though I’m rapidly running out of suitable restaurants in the immediate area). I haven’t mentioned my ex’s family, for obvious reasons, even though they’re lovely people and I wish they were still part of my life. My less than stellar life choices, the rough patches I’ve had with employment and friendships and everything else...those aren’t all that funny, so most of them will never be mentioned in public.
So what do I have to confess?
Very simple: I’ve been finding it increasingly difficult to write these diaries, and not because of lack of subjects (ha!), burnout (not quite, although the lack of feedback on some diaries can be disheartening), or Gil the Wonder Cat threatening to shed in my general direction (he does that anyway, so big whoop). No, it’s something else, and it’s been getting worse and worse over the past six months.
You see, my friends and faithful readers, I need to confess that I’ve been pounding out these diaries every week despite a whopping case of carpal tunnel syndrome in my wrists. And though I sleep wearing wrist splints, avoid jarring my lower arms whenever possible, and do all the stretching exercises that supposedly ward off the tingling, numbness, and occasional pain caused by compressed nerves, my condition has gotten bad enough that I have no choice but to surrender myself to the tender mercies of a hand surgeon in hopes of gaining relief.
That’s why I’ve scheduled surgery on my left hand for October 20th, a little over a month from now, and will be scheduling surgery on my right hand sometime in December or January.
Yes. Really.
Fortunately, surgery for carpal tunnel syndrome has made enormous advances in the last decade or so; I won’t even be fully asleep, simply sedated while the clever young surgeon I saw last week works his magic. I’ll only need two days off from work per wrist, and after I’m fully healed I’ll never need to worry about it again. By this time in six months or so, I’ll be able to consign my night braces to the flames (probably with a high-pitched scream of “FAREWELL FRIEND THOU WERT A THOUSAND TIMES MORE ITCHY THAN I!!!!!” as the flames rise higher and higher in my driveway and my neighbors call the fire department before the Last Homely Shack is engulfed and the whole block explodes, or something) and my only souvenir will be two tiny matching scars at the base of my palms.
So it’s all good, it really is! I’ll need only a week or two away from non-essential writing after each operation...but when this is combined with not one but two book reviews due this fall, my SCA barony’s Yule feast, the possibility of a trip to New York over the holidays to see Bella and Ned, a sewing project that’s been hanging over my head for a long, long time, and the upcoming trade show season at the office, there isn’t going to be all that much time for bad books.
So. I am issuing a serious call for substitute writers for at least five diaries for the weeks when I’ll either be too busy, too post-surgical, or too medievalish to write a fresh diary. The alternative is either yet another !#@!$@!$#@!$!@# rewind or no diary at all for those weeks, and since we’re all probably sick to death of rewinds, if no one steps up to the plate I may have no choice but to go dark for several weeks this fall.
I don’t want to do that. I really don’t. And despite a recent decline in comments, I sincerely hope that no one else wants that, either.
If you can fill in, please reply in the comments so we can communicate about scheduling guest posters. A serious diary about a favorite book, a funny one about your cats, a diary written by your cats, an ode in iambic pentamenter to the GIANT TURKEY PUPPET O’DOOM...any and all are welcome. I simply don’t want these diaries to go dark when I’m either doing something else or drooling into my pillow thanks to pain meds.
That said, here’s the (very) tentative schedule for the rest of the year:
September 27 — When Last We Left Our Gallant Non-Heroes….
October 1 — Book Review deadline, substitute needed
October 8 — Get a Piece of the Roc
October 15 — The Weirdo American Community
October 22 — Recovery from hand surgery, substitute needed
October 29 — Recovery from hand surgery, substitute needed
November 5 — Guy Fawkes and Other Failed Revolutionaries
November 12 — The Largely Fictionalized Childhoods of (In)Famous Americans
November 19 — Holiday shopping guide
November 26 — Book Review Deadline, substitute needed
December 3 — Baronial Yule Feast, substitute needed
December 10 — Trolling Uncle Hugo
December 17 — They Kissed, Told, and Cleaned Up
December 24 — Potpourri for $2000, Alex!
December 31 — Happy New Year To All!
After that, we’ll see how it goes. I’m committed to Arisia this January, plus will likely be having my right hand taken care of after the first of the year, so things may be dicey until February. I’ll definitely post a call for authors should I need them.
Thanks in advance, everyone. I really appreciate it.
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Have you ever had carpal tunnel surgery? Put it off until your hand feels like you’ve shoved it into a needle case? Pretended all was well even though it wasn’t? It’s Saturday night, so come and share….
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