We Are Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made Of
I started the Shakespeare project and have worked my way through The Tempest. Next is Two Gentlemen of Verona, not my favorite. But I shall persevere. I keep tempting myself with Richard III.
Yes, I’m weird.
I am glad I do not eat Brazilian yogurt.
I struggle every day with the cultural injunction to look like a twelve-year-old boy, when I am a woman of childbearing years. I’ve borne, nursed, and protected two children (and anyone else who happens along) and my body does show it. In the Renaissance I would be a goddess at my age, because I still have all my teeth and real hips. I mean, I’m glad to live today with proper plumbing and the right to vote (though the conservatives plan to strip that away probably, with my right to my own body) but I really, really have a problem with the media barrage of starving women presented as attractive.
In more important news, Oji-san is still hanging on. The kids and I spoke to him yesterday. That was difficult.
But this morning the surgeon suggested a new type of surgery, to put in an aortal stent. Human beings are very complex, and treating them is even more complex, so I can understand why things keep changing. All the same, it’s very hard on the DHM. He sounds as low as I’ve ever heard him.
I hate hearing someone in pain and being unable to help. I just HATE it. It’s the thing I hate most.
Thank you to everyone who has sent good wishes, energy, and thoughts. I really believe it helps. And it helps to know people are rooting for us. The support has just been tremendous. Thank you all.
Last of all, I’m getting first-pass pages of Saint City Sinners (Valentine 4), which is the last stage before ARCs and actual printing. That will push back the copyedits on 5, but it will also mean 4 is in bed and I don’t need to worry about it anymore.
Which will be uber-fantastic. One less thing to worry about, and God knows I need all of that I can.
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