Just last Friday, I submitted the last of the required paperwork to a university in the northeast that has exactly the creative writing program I want to take on. I'm so excited! Without jinxing myself, I feel really good about getting in. It's not for sure, of course, but I know I have what it takes, and I'm really looking forward to the opportunity to learn and grow and come into my skill.
Meanwhile, it's a low-residency program, which means twice a year, I spend a week on campus. The rest of the semester takes place at my computer, in my home.
Needless to say, the first semester is going to be so tough. If I get in, I'll be jetting off to classes during the countdown to Deployment The Second. That will suck foil-coated rancid Easter chocolate balls. Then I'll spend the entire first semester working through the courses and beginning on a novel while YodaMan is chugging around the Pacific Ocean. Then about a week after he returns from that wonderful deployment, I once again jet off for more classes.
All together now, say with me: "Aarrrrgggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"
In other news, India is exporting more than just yoga and tech-job despair. Welcome Indian Supervirus! I have just been indoctrinated into what was called both "Chennaitis" and "Chennai-arrhea" while the guys were deployed. Nimitz made a stop in India - rather historic, too - and for their efforts pulled away with a virulent bugger that took down the entire crew in such a steady stream that the ship had only 50% of its staff standing and working at any given moment. Keep in mind they only had 24 hours SIQ to deal with it. I'm working through day 5 right now. :/
That's right. Somehow, after the bug they caught three months ago had plenty of time to die off and wither away, it somehow managed to reconstitute itself and infect our kids, then me, then my friends. In fact, many Nimitz families have been down for the count with this wonderful bug. Unreal. It's rather gnarly. The vomiting portion alone, which only constituted half a day for me, was violent enough that I managed to pop a huge blood vessel in my left eye.
On the upside, I have one-upped all my friends on Halloween costuming this year. One friend has likened the ick factor of my eye to Mal's after getting pummeled at the end of the movie "Serenity." [All hail Joss Whedon!] I was going to get a pic of it and iconize it so I could pass an image of Stank Eye when I was giving said reproof to someone. Alas, I could not get YodaMan to cooperate, and now the blood pool of death has faded from a Styxian nightmare to a mere Wes Craven movie. Too much yellow as the eyeball recovers, so the Stank is lost. ::sigh::
The kids have been sweet through it all, though. Son the Elder has peeled back my eyelid so he could ogle the Puddle of Ebola Horror, point, and yell, "Eeeewwwwwww, Mama! You need a band-aid!" As I lay on the couch and prayed I would issue forth no further intestinal Niagara Falls-level abomination, they brought me ginger ale and insisted I drink to make my tummy all better. They've even offered me half-masticated crackers to help me digest my own stomach more easily. Aren't they cute?
Then two seconds later, they devolve from perfect angel to fallen angel.
My life is SO cool.
An Open Letter to Congress
3 weeks ago