Although there have been a few moments of lameness--exhaustion and a flotilla of failed festivals, primarily--October is good. I like the fall best. I still am finding about 12 hours a week to write which, considering we're mid-semester, is pretty decent. Nothing like the impending noise machine that an infant brings to keep you typing, I suppose. I need some readers though and haven't had much luck finding a writing group here. I think a long distance group must be coordinated but, as I'm a little spacey as of now, I'm not making much progress.
I went for my 27th week OB appointment today. So far, so good, knock on wood. I'm still freaking out about the swine flu but I can't get anyone in the health care field to freak out with me so I guess I'll freak out on my own, with the help of Yahoo. Except for a slightly low hematocrit, all my blood tests look good--no signs of preeclampsia and my blood pressure is hanging in there. I also passed my gestational diabetes test which is good news because I'm already having a hard time finding enough food that's interesting to eat--I'd have a hard time cutting down carbs, although they're not my primary staple. So far, this baby will be made from mostly almonds, yogurt, bananas and peaches. And bacon.
Erik's mom and sister are coming down for a few days so we can leave Zoe up here and go down to the Regional Emmy's Festival. This better be better than the other festivals we've attended this year. The Apple Fest, the October Fest (actually canceled) and the Autumn Fest were all a big fail. Z got to jump in a bouncy machine for one of them but otherwise, $5 pumpkins, no apples, $6 brats and bands covering James Taylor do not a festival make. The Emmy event will be more expensive--$150 for me and Erik plus a room at the Sheraton but at least I won't have to stand in line for the port-a-potty.
The book is still making it's way out. We've got blurbs, cover. Now the manuscript is in copyediting for a potential release date of December 1st. If it weren't for my low hematocrit/exhaustion, the 12 hours a week of writing I don't want to give up, the bad festivals and impending Emmy's, I would start up some sort of publicity machine. Self-promotion sucks worse than an Arizonian festival.