No Photo Friday

I got nothin’. If you checked out Working Stiffs on Wednesday, you’ve seen all my photography for the week. All that was worth posting, at least.

So instead of Photo Friday, I’m beginning the countdown to the conference.

The Pennwriters Conference is next week. Technically, it’s Friday through Sunday, but I’m leaving Wednesday so I can attend Tim Esaias’ daylong intensive fiction workshop on Thursday. And I’m not at all sucking up to the teacher by offering him a ride to Lancaster.

Last year, as you may (or may not) recall, I was conference coordinator. This year, my sole duty, beyond that of conference Yoda (I sit in my cave in my swamp and offer guidance), is that of photographer. But I think I’m almost as stressed as I was a year ago.

This year, I am pitching.

The last time I pitched was in 2006. I signed with my agent back then. I un-signed with her this January. So I’m back in pitching practice.

No, I’m not ready. Not even close.

I have to confess…there was a moment or two yesterday when I considered cancelling and just staying home. Not because I’m not ready, but that didn’t help.

My mom had surgery on her hand yesterday. She’s back at home and doing wonderfully well, but her right hand is out-of-order for a few weeks.

Also, I never said anything, but three weeks ago, I had blood work done. Standard stuff. It had been a while, so during my routine physical, my doctor ordered it. But the results weren’t so routine and standard. Frankly, I flunked. I was ordered to have the tests redone in three weeks.

That was Wednesday. Yesterday, when I returned home from tucking Mom in for a post-operative nap in her own bed, there was a message on my machine. My test results were in. I returned the call, but the woman I needed to speak with was on her lunch break. Being a fiction writer, my mind started spinning out a world of dire what-ifs. How bad was it? What treatment would I need? How would I schedule another doctor’s appointment into my life with the conference less than a week away?

THAT was when I considered not going. I was sick, maybe dying. (Yes, I can be melodramatic…especially when I’m running on only a few hours of sleep and no lunch.) I should stay home and take care of myself and my mom.

Then I called again and got the woman from the lab on the phone. She happily reported that all of my numbers were good. No explanation. But I’m healthy. Personally, I think the blood samples got switched the first time, but whatever the case, I don’t care. I’m fine. Mom is good.

I’m conference bound!