Lost weekdays...
Feb. 23rd, 2005 11:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwendolyngraceIn the Ray Milland sense.
Project Runway has a website. I mean, of *course* it has a website - *everything* has websites these days. But Tim's Take? Wow. Complete timesuck in a kind of interesting way. Argh. I really didn't need to spend over an hour reading his assessments of the designs and designers
I've realized that I've become a total FictionAlley slug. I just have no time to do any of the "extra" work that really shouldn't be "extra." Sorry, FA-mates; I suck.
In good news, apparently Bill did not mind the additions I made to the Mame number - in fact, he embellished them. Better that way - starting with something really simple and subtle, and let him make it more pronounced - than introduce something really stagey and have him pull it back. (Though he did start out the evening with the "It's my prerogative to change things" speech - and he's absolutely right. I think he came back, though, recognizing that he really needs to only change things at this point if there something that really isn't *working* or that looks just awful.) However, at least this gives me the permission I need to clean up further. I was mildly annoyed though when it seemed like *everything* we worked on last week got forgotten and muddied back up again....
Ah, well. I can only do what I can do.
So I was in Rochester last weekend for an Amber session, and I had emailed my dad: Do you want to get breakfast? He emailed me, but I didn't get the email, so when I called him on Saturday morning, he told me he had the flu or something like it. I called again on Sunday (per his request) to check on him, and he said he would be calling the doctor. Then Monday, while I was on the road, he called to report that he spoke to the doctor and she prescribed antibiotics and told him to stay home this whole week. (I was treated to bitching about the need to have his exams proctored, since he won't be there to administer them himself.)
Well, he called me at work yesterday morning because now, the doctor says that what he has might be a strain of hepatitis. Yes, really, hepatitis (not one of the nasty, icky A-C strains, but apparently still rather serious). She told him to go off the antibiotics, that she needed to change things around. He countered that he couldn't go off the antibiotics, because he'd get the shakes and I don't know what else. Something. (Realize that half the time, I don't really listen to my father, it's just so much blah-blah. Yes, even when he's telling me about his impending death, 'cause he does that about once a month.) Well, anyway, the doctor said to him, "Well, why don't you go in to the emergency room and that way we can continue testing and they can give you something for the discomfort," etc. So he was calling me - at work, in Massachusetts - because he was going to go the Emergency Room - in Rochester - and he thought that "Someone ought to know where I am."
Right. You go, Dad.
Last night? In the middle of rehearsal? My phone rings. How embarrassing! But I figured it was my father to tell me either that he had been discharged from ED or admitted to the hospital for further treatment. I couldn't get to the phone before it stopped ringing, but it was only a couple seconds later. So I tried calling him back. Had to wander all over the building searching for a signal (don't ask me why the only strong signal in the building is *in the auditorium!*), and then of course, he tried to call again while I was trying to leave him voicemail.... Tribulation abounds. Well, we got a spotty connection, in which I was able to catch that he was still in the Emergency Room. He had called me at like 10:00 am to tell me he was *going*, you understand. It's now 8:00 pm, but he's still in ED. Right. And of course, the minute I say "Well, I'm in rehearsal," he realizes that he's interrupted me and I get a quick, "Bye!" and he hangs up.
WHAT?!
So I call him back, get his *voicemail,* and remind him that I'll be *out* of rehearsal by around 10, and that if he wants to call me then to tell me what's up, he can. I also mention that I'll be turning my phone off, so as not to interrupt rehearsal again (really, I would do this normally except nobody *EVER* calls me), but that he can call and update me as necessary.
I got home, called again. Got the answering machine (one ring, so he hadn't been home), and the voicemail on the cell phone.
Well, now it's 11:45 am on Wednesday, and still no word....
It's not that I'd actually be able to *do* anything from here, but I'd kind of like to know what's going on. You know?
Jeezis H on a bicycle. Fathers.
I need to be editing. I shall go edit.
Project Runway has a website. I mean, of *course* it has a website - *everything* has websites these days. But Tim's Take? Wow. Complete timesuck in a kind of interesting way. Argh. I really didn't need to spend over an hour reading his assessments of the designs and designers
I've realized that I've become a total FictionAlley slug. I just have no time to do any of the "extra" work that really shouldn't be "extra." Sorry, FA-mates; I suck.
In good news, apparently Bill did not mind the additions I made to the Mame number - in fact, he embellished them. Better that way - starting with something really simple and subtle, and let him make it more pronounced - than introduce something really stagey and have him pull it back. (Though he did start out the evening with the "It's my prerogative to change things" speech - and he's absolutely right. I think he came back, though, recognizing that he really needs to only change things at this point if there something that really isn't *working* or that looks just awful.) However, at least this gives me the permission I need to clean up further. I was mildly annoyed though when it seemed like *everything* we worked on last week got forgotten and muddied back up again....
Ah, well. I can only do what I can do.
So I was in Rochester last weekend for an Amber session, and I had emailed my dad: Do you want to get breakfast? He emailed me, but I didn't get the email, so when I called him on Saturday morning, he told me he had the flu or something like it. I called again on Sunday (per his request) to check on him, and he said he would be calling the doctor. Then Monday, while I was on the road, he called to report that he spoke to the doctor and she prescribed antibiotics and told him to stay home this whole week. (I was treated to bitching about the need to have his exams proctored, since he won't be there to administer them himself.)
Well, he called me at work yesterday morning because now, the doctor says that what he has might be a strain of hepatitis. Yes, really, hepatitis (not one of the nasty, icky A-C strains, but apparently still rather serious). She told him to go off the antibiotics, that she needed to change things around. He countered that he couldn't go off the antibiotics, because he'd get the shakes and I don't know what else. Something. (Realize that half the time, I don't really listen to my father, it's just so much blah-blah. Yes, even when he's telling me about his impending death, 'cause he does that about once a month.) Well, anyway, the doctor said to him, "Well, why don't you go in to the emergency room and that way we can continue testing and they can give you something for the discomfort," etc. So he was calling me - at work, in Massachusetts - because he was going to go the Emergency Room - in Rochester - and he thought that "Someone ought to know where I am."
Right. You go, Dad.
Last night? In the middle of rehearsal? My phone rings. How embarrassing! But I figured it was my father to tell me either that he had been discharged from ED or admitted to the hospital for further treatment. I couldn't get to the phone before it stopped ringing, but it was only a couple seconds later. So I tried calling him back. Had to wander all over the building searching for a signal (don't ask me why the only strong signal in the building is *in the auditorium!*), and then of course, he tried to call again while I was trying to leave him voicemail.... Tribulation abounds. Well, we got a spotty connection, in which I was able to catch that he was still in the Emergency Room. He had called me at like 10:00 am to tell me he was *going*, you understand. It's now 8:00 pm, but he's still in ED. Right. And of course, the minute I say "Well, I'm in rehearsal," he realizes that he's interrupted me and I get a quick, "Bye!" and he hangs up.
WHAT?!
So I call him back, get his *voicemail,* and remind him that I'll be *out* of rehearsal by around 10, and that if he wants to call me then to tell me what's up, he can. I also mention that I'll be turning my phone off, so as not to interrupt rehearsal again (really, I would do this normally except nobody *EVER* calls me), but that he can call and update me as necessary.
I got home, called again. Got the answering machine (one ring, so he hadn't been home), and the voicemail on the cell phone.
Well, now it's 11:45 am on Wednesday, and still no word....
It's not that I'd actually be able to *do* anything from here, but I'd kind of like to know what's going on. You know?
Jeezis H on a bicycle. Fathers.
I need to be editing. I shall go edit.
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no subject
Date: 2005-02-24 03:05 am (UTC)Of course I've had a some kind of stomach flu for the past two days. Not fun being sick in a hotel room. All I wanna do is crawl into my own bed.