The Return Call

“Dad, I need some more details.  It’s not going to work for me to just tell work that I’m going to Vegas to watch movies with my parents.  What’s going on?  Why do I have to be there within a month?”

“I never said anything about a month.”

“Yes, Dad, you did.”

“Well, we just want to see you, and we don’t want you to have any distractions.”

“I have to bring my family, Dad.  I have to help Lannette with her medications.”

“Well, then, never mind.  Just forget about it.  We’ll call the whole thing off.”

I’m still shocked.

The Call

You know those calls that you expect to get someday, but not today?

“Stace?  This is Dad.  I want you and your sister – just the two of you – to come out here for a few days.  It’ll probably be the last chance we have to get all of us together.  I’ll pay for it.”

“Dad, you can’t afford that.”

“I’ll take it out of our savings.  It’s important.  When you get here, we’ll talk about some things and watch the old home movies.  Try to be out here within the next few weeks.  No more than a month.”

Performance Anxiety

Most of what I write (aside from blog entries and social networking updates) is non-fiction, science fiction, or poetry.  However, I think my best short story is a piece of literary fiction, and it’s currently in the queue at a fairly prestigious literary magazine.  I suspect the end result will be a rejection letter; I’m prepared for the worst.

I’m okay with the prospect of rejection.   Success and its resulting reader expectations scare me, though.  How do I maintain quality output?

An alternate Me just whispered in my ear: “Trust yourself.  Satisfy your own expectations and your fears will dissolve.”

Parental Independence

My parents weigh heavily on my mind.  Dad turns 80 in a couple of months; he had emergency triple bypass surgery three years ago.  Mom, almost 75, fell and broke her hip in November and can’t climb the few steps to her bed.  She sleeps in a recliner.  They live two states from their nearest relatives and refuse to move any closer.  When I call them, I can hear the fatigue in Dad’s voice and the creeping senility in Mom’s.

I used to be proud of them for being so independent; now, I just wish they would move back home.

Resolute

In the past, I’ve blogged my New Year’s resolutions and invariably set myself up for failure by making huge lists.  This year, it all fits in less than 100 words, but it’s still lengthy.

1.  Clean the litter boxes regularly.

2.  Start publishing fiction.

3.  Publish more non-fiction.

4.  Finish my webOS app.

5.  Strengthen my back and neck.

6.  Eat no McDonald’s breakfast sandwiches in 2010.

7.   Make (and meet) more reasonable goals at work.

8.  Streamline our finances.

9.  Read for enjoyment.

10.  Blog regularly.

11.   Transplant my Variax guitar electronics.

(At least the list goes to eleven.)