Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch

I believe I owe you an explanation.

I haven't posted in a while, which if you regularly stop by this blog you've noticed, unless you have Alzheimer's, or are in a coma sitting at your computer, and you only get to this blog because of random twitches that make your mouse hit the "Favorites" bar, and therefore are obtuse about what page you are landing on anyway.

Part of my lack of posting is due to the enormous  constraints on my time. After twenty years of being a 'stay at home mom', in which I worked part time, I finally got a full time, Monday through Friday gig. What we drivers call, with disdain,  a 'real  job'. Plus I'm still employed as a carriage driver, although I haven't worked since Valentine's weekend.  Trying to get into the M-F dawn to dusk groove has kicked my ass.

As you might imagine, after working nights for the last ten years, morphing into a position that requires me to get up at 5:45, commute when there is actual traffic, wear clothes suited for an office as opposed to a barn,  then returning home through, once again, traffic that is so thick I wonder if they're giving away free stuff at each intersection,  I tend to be exhausted. Plus I was wracked with some health issues that ended up being undiagnoseable . I even went to see several persons in the medical profession. And unless you're a close personal friend of mine, you wouldn't know that me going to a doctor is big. I never do that. It took my right eardrum bursting because of an infection for me to visit a Doc-in-the-Box for antibiotics. And  I still can't wear my wedding ring because of a horrendous canoeing incident that made the  movie  Deliverance  look like a church picnic.  So dealing with my mystery illness has been an exercise in futility of epic proportions. I depended on my jacked-up ring finger to perform spontaneous self-healing.  As usual, this did not occur.  But as a life-long Cub's fan, while I always have high expectations, I'm accustomed to disappointment.  I expect the debilitating plague of aliments that has been haunting me like a VooDoo curse will continue, despite my current  pro-active medical stance.

Anyway I digress. So I've been busy, you've gathered that. I still have book three of the Carriage Chronicles sitting on my nightstand in manuscript/paper form waiting for me to augment it. I will get back to it, but it is simmering in my mind while I embark on the dreaded daily commute. While I was at  the worst part of my illness, when lethargy overtook me on a daily basis, I watched all six seasons  of Six Feet Under, and the past three seasons of Game of Thrones. Why, you might ask, was I drawn to these particular stories? Because, I respond, they, like my novels, have ensemble casts.  Watching the way the writers juggle all of the different story arcs belonging to the vast array of characters gives me ideas. Plus, in the case of Game of Thrones, the costumes are awesome.

In two weeks I will be a volunteer for Salt Lake Comic Con FanXperience. I'm not doing this for any research or motivational reasons, it's just for shits-n-giggles. But after that the sun should be warming Utah on a regular basis, and I will get back to my regularly scheduled programming.