So, it’s been quite a while for anything new to come bubbling up here. There’s good reason for that, as some of you who follow me on Facebook have gathered over the past months. A brief recap:
Album Release
I got sickNew job! (same company, got promoted, LOTS more work)
Eric got pneumonia (more on this later)
Complete block on songwriting
Eric finally got better
Birthday!
Spring arrived, not a moment too soon
Writing a Musical! (and by writing I mean the concept was that of Susan Weiner, I’m just doing the blocking and dialogue and stage plot)
New baby! (no, not mine)
….so yeah, it’s been a little busy in the wonderful world of Lizzie.
Windycon was amazing. I got to see so many people that I haven’t seen in ages, and got to celebrate the marriage of two people who honestly could not be more perfect for one another. They’re ridiculously cute, and it brightens me up a little every time I think of them.
The CD release for “Crowes and Consequences” went off without a hitch, and out concert that Sunday was a whirlwind of Eric on many instruments, Andy’s puns of DOOM, Jason holding down the low end, Justin giving us one half of a serious heartbeat, Beth Kinderman -the other half of that killer beat- and I taking bets on how long we could survive this sausage fest, and me ducking to make sure that the careening maniacs around me didn’t take off my head in mid-verse!
Susan Weiner is evil in all the best ways. She’s put together one doosey of a musical concept involving Cheshire moon songs telling the story of a fairytale princess turned baddass. I’ve gotten the stage plot and dialogue finished at long last, and it’s going to be EPIC. We’re hoping to feature this at WindyCon 2014, so stay tuned!
I was approached several times over several weeks by 2 manages in my company regarding the work that I do because I’m the person who did it the most. They were worried about risk issues, which I illustrated. Then I got called down to the principal’s office. My first thought, of course, was that I was getting canned. So, sweating mortars, I sat down and was promptly told that not only was I not being fired, I was being promoted. YAY…. Until the job was put out in front of me and I realized just how screwed I was about to become.
Eric and I got bronchitis at about the same time. His expanded into full blown pneumonia, even though he was feeling a bit better. He actually went to his GP for an issue he was having with his hands. His doctor heard his breathing and immediately sent his off for a chest Xray. If Eric had waited even a couple of days, he likely would have been hospitalized. He came close more than once over the course of the next 6 weeks. That’s right, 1 ½ months of battle royale against lung infection. He had sleeping issues, coughing fits that left him in pain, and a wife who spent every waking moment and many sleeping hours in a perpetual state of worry/fear.
This is by far what wore me out the most this winter. Not the storms which dumped foot after foot of snow on us, not the new job that had my head cracking at the seams with new data, but knowing that my husband was out of my physical reach for hours every day and miserable as a man can get outside of a Vogan poetry reading. He missed a total of 3 weeks of work, sapping us both.
It’s difficult to put into words how scared I was. This is one of those time when knowing the statistics of how often people die of something was NOT helpful in the slightest. And of course my brain decided right then was the time to get mean about, well, EVERYTHING. Eric would rally and relapse, and I would be on the world’s most unforgiving rollercoaster. I’d just found my soulmate, and I had to cart him off to the ER not once by TWICE. And of course, it only stressed him out more to worry about me, which stretched out his recovery time. Yay, vicious cycle.
His lungs cleared, so I was able to breathe for about 2 days before the pneumonia came back. I didn’t cry until we got home. I was quite proud of myself. It felt very much like jumping from the frying pan into a boiling kettle. The relapse news hit me harder than the initial diagnosis, and even though the second round was not nearly as big a problem as the first, I had been so frayed for so long that I simply couldn’t avoid cracking, if only a little. I felt horrible for doing so, because this wasn't about me by any means, and I tried so hard to refocus and make sure Eric was taken care of, but the wonderment of my brain wouldn’t let it die. My brain kept dancing around singing “I’m going to think up the worst possible scenarios and play them out in your head one by one JUST BECAUSE!” Thanks, brain. Thanks a heap.
And, to be perfectly honest, I was reluctant to share any of this at the time because the people who responded to these posts most had more medical advice than the ER Nurses, and were MORE THAN HAPPY to share it regardless of their lack of medical training/experience. Instead of being supportive, people wanted to make themselves look smart and feel important. I simply didn’t have enough cope in stock to deal with them with any kind of tact, so I just stopped talking.
Which left me with nothing as far as songwriting. Eric kept throwing more and more and more bits of music at me, good pieces that deserved to be paired into songs, but I simply had nothing. Nothing in my brain would get past the worry over Eric’s barely stable health, the contact barrage of snow, and work stress, I simply had nothing left. We couldn’t keep the driveway OR the front walk clear to save our lives this year, it was awful. And all the worse for a man barely recovering enough blood oxygen to have equilibrium. I could almost hear things around the edges as exhausted sleep finally kicked in my door every night, but it never lasted long enough to become something other than a forgotten dream.
Eventually, through slow going and easy steps and antibiotics and steroids and everyone in my life trying to keep me from freaking out, Eric made the trek back. The cough still sounded like a huge dog with a frog in its throat, but there was less and less behind it. And as the cough subsided, as he slept easier, I slept a little easier, wasn’t quite as drawn. February came to a close, and so did much of my anxiety.
Is it that time already? Honestly, my birthday snuck up on me this year. And Eric, being the amazing husband he is and having seen me fray and resew and then refray and cauterize the seams of my existence in the previous months, decided to surprise me. BBC adaptations of Jane Austin books! Luckiest. Crowe. EVER. All the kids popped over for my birthday party, consisting of good pizza and ice cream cake and games and tons and tons of laughter. Works for me.
My birthday was capped off with a banger of a Cheshire Moon show in Chicago with our wandering fiddler, Susan! It was so nice to see her settled and happy, and she TORE IT UP at the show. We stayed an extra day in Chicago to see an equally fabulous show by three Fifths at Life Force Arts center. I knew then that spring had sunk in and taken hold of me as three paintings there poked at me for songs. They even gave me melody lines. We headed back home, and little by little….
…finally. A handful of false starts and flurries and deceptive meteorologists later, spring finally arrived. And as the earth slowly woke, so did I. Ok, it felt like coming back from the dead more than simply waking, but as the birds came home, the geese started finding nests, and the rabbits started chasing each other around, I could feel my gears unlocking, creaking to life once more.
Two new additions to the extended family! One human, and one not. A pair of local filkers here in DSM welcomed a new foal just days ago. He’s not even 2 weeks old and he’s on his feet and wobbling around. He’s auburn with a white star on his forehead. The cute is lethal.
Another young man made his appearance at length. My older sister’s best friend, and one of my dearest friends in the world, gave birth to her first child just 2 days ago. He’s the most adorable little blueberry ever, and he could not be in more loving hands. Fairy Godmother Brigade, ASSEMBLE!!!
So yeah, life’s been just a TINY bit off the rails, but back into the green and the black, the better pieces of conscienceless. Old projects are poking back out for new work; new works are sprouting up, getting ready to flower. Now, if only I could get my shoulder to stop hurting every time I try to lift my left arm, I’ll be set!
