So...before I take off on my Labor of Love tangent...do you know why Labor day exists? Believe it or not there actually is a reason. I found a cute little explanation of the whys and wherefores of Labor Day right here. Check it out if you want to know why we celebrate the day in September instead of May, and how Grover Cleveland and the Haymarket Riots played a part in influencing our end of summer bash. It's kind of nice to know why we get that first Monday in September off.
Alright, not that that's taken care of... where the heck have I been?
I had a fairly serious operation back in April, and by the time I'd recovered enough that I should have been back writing up a storm I had instead fallen and wacked the hell out of my noggin.
Yeah, the old grey mare she ain't what she used to be.
I already suffer from TBI or traumatic brain injury... and this blow to my head sent all the symptoms that had started to fade right back into full effect. So I'm ridiculously forgetful--pretty sure I dropped the ball on a bunch of stuff this summer, but I cannot for the life of me recall what exactly I forgot.
I have to make lists for everything.
Like going to get a cup of coffee from my own kitchen.
One day I tried for almost two hours to get a cup of coffee. I kept forgetting what I was doing every time I got half-way down the hall from living room to kitchen. It would be really funny except I've been letting folks down. Appointments forgotten, blogs not written, stories written out of order. Sheesh.
Thankfully, I've found a willing sacrifice--erm minion/personal assistant willing to work for peanuts and another minion/organizer/keeper of my brain. Between the three of us and my wonderful editor Val I'm hoping to get back on track in the month of September. This past week's trial run has gone pretty well. Except for the stuff I forgot to tell my minders to remind me of.
Eh, it's a work in progress. Writing is like breathing to me, and far from laborious usually. I have high hopes that with some more rest and time my dodgy brain will start to tick over reasonably again, allowing me to get back to writing at a faster than snail-zone pace.
I'll keep you posted.
This has been Cherie Noel, live from the front lines of my battered brain.
Take care babies. Guard your noggins. Having a battered brain is a bit of crap, so seriously, keep your brains from bouncing.