BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Yes… “STAFF” infection, NOT Staph Infection. That was what the monstrous, hyper-infectious, killer strain of “walking death influenza” was dubbed at this years Samhain Florida Pagan Gathering. Primarily, because patient zero infected several members of the festival staff, who then unwittingly shared it with other staff, then attendees, then speakers, etc. I just happened to be one of the lucky masses to be infected with extreme prejudice. Somewhere around late morning on Friday last I started feeling like crap. By that evening, I was pretty much laid up with a fever and hacking cough that was threatening to send one or both of my lungs flying across the room at supersonic speed. Not a good thing.

Even so, a good time was had. I bunked in with Dorothy Morrison and her husband Mark on one side of the cabin, along with my wife (Evil Kat) and my offspring. On the other side of the cabin was my dear friend Kristin Madden and her son Karl, as well as another set of great buds, Z and Hardee. Even with the attack of the “Staff Infection”, we still got to visit and have a great time. I had a chance to visit with another dear friend, Chuck Cook. Unfortunately, his wife and kids weren’t able to make it this go around, but hopefully we will catch up with them in the not too distant future. I also got to visit with, and even square dance with, my old friend Ann Moura. And, of course, I spent some time with my buds John & Brandie (aka THAT Moonfire!) and their crew. To top it off, I got to meet and kibbitz with Kirk White, an author I had heretofore only known via email.

The fest was well attended, as usual- rumor has it they even broke a record. The workshops were great and we all signed tons of books for festivalgoers. Other than the staff infection I only had two regrets – one being that Paul, our beloved guardian and firetender was not present, as he had just had surgery to remove a brain tumor. Fortunately, we received news that he is doing great, healing quicker than expected, and that the tumor turned out to be completely benign! (Yay!!) So, I’m looking forward to seeing him next go around. Just to make things right, however, someone produced a life size cutout picture of Paul’s face, and we all had pictures taken with it in groups, individually, at at various events throughout the fest so that he could be there with us, even if he wasn’t. My other regret would be that I didn’t get to make my annual pilgrimage down to Rowangrove, which is Druydess’s camp. She’s a lovely gal, tremendous hostess, and her whole crew is a blast to hang with. Every year I make sure to stop by for a few drinks and an hour or two of intelligent, witty, innuendo filled banter. Unfortunately, being laid up with the “infection” I was in no condition to drink, I wasn’t particularly witty- nor intelligent- and I would have hated to spread the virus any farther than it had already gone.

So, FPG was a blast, even with the infection and regrets. I do feel it a moral imperative to say the following- Rayne, of guest services was fantastic! She took care of us like you wouldn’t believe, making sure that we had our cabin cooler filled with goodies and ice, extra blankets (yeah, there was actually a cold snap in Florida, can you believe it?), food, etc. She even had her minions cart our cases of books back and forth between the cabin and tables. As far as we were concerned, she was the Guest Services Goddess! And, as wonderful as the rest of the staff was and is, I also must single out my favorite Guardian, Trauma. She is an absolute sweetheart, and she saw to it that I was well taken care of from the medical standpoint. (Of course, prior to becoming infected, she also tagged me with her infamous “Flaming Dr. Pepper”, but that’s a whole ‘nother story…)

Now…On to some other stuff…That being, “Nasty Rumors”…

When filling out my speaker info packet for FPG, as a joke I put a few notes under “special requirements”… The notes were something to the effect that Dorothy Morrison was old and decrepit and would require a wheelchair. I also added that Kristin Madden is a whiny diva who would demand that she get anything Morrison got, and therefore they should have one for her too.

Now…The staff of FPG knows us well, and they knew this was a joke. They posted it on their official website, as a joke. Some of you may even remember Dorothy, Kristin, and me blogging back and forth at one another about this, and generally having a great time with it.

Unfortunately, someone who doesn’t know us read the blurb on the FPG site, and took offense. They felt that Kristin was being seriously disrespected, and were worried that Dorothy was on her deathbed.

So…Let us quell the rumors. Dorothy Morrison is like my big sister. Kristin Madden is like my little sister. Yeah, I’m the middle child…guess that explains it, eh? (Grin)….Either way, we pick back and forth at one another all the time. It is all good natured fun, and it is how we interact. If you see us in person, all together, you will see one hell of a show. And, if I do say so myself, we are pretty damned entertaining– Well, we amuse ourselves, so hey, what more can we ask… Suffice it to say, there was no disrespect toward Kristin “Don’t Call Me Kirsten” Madden, nor is Dorothy “Older Than Dirt” Morrison in ill health. It was just us kids joking around with one another. End of story.

Trust me, if we ever get mad at one another you won’t see us bickering. There will just be three smoking holes left where we each once stood. But, I can pretty much guarantee you that such will never happen, so no worries there.

Okay, I need to go check on Evil Kat since she is now dealing with the Staff Infection. I’ll leave you with a few pictures…

Thought I was kidding about the square dancing, didn’t you?

More to come…

Murv

No, not that pain in the a** you get from having too many cats. Although, having too many cats is a definite pain in the a**.

As many of you know, my wife and I have rescued cats for years. They usually come to us as abandoned, abused, special needs, what have you. We take them in and try to find homes for them. We aren’t as active in this as we once were, especially now that I travel so much. However, over the years we have ended up with some of the special needs felines living with us, simply because they weren’t easy to place.

Now, this is not to say that we didn’t get attached to them. We did. But, the reality is, we have a whole raft of cats who need special care. For instance, one is highly allergic to everything. She manifests her allergies in an odd way, however. Most cats get a skin irritation or some such. But not this one. She ends up with chronic sinusitis and sneezes constantly.

Two others are insulin dependent diabetics. And, regular old humulin, which is what they used to take, has been discontinued. Sooooo, instead of 30 bucks a month for two vials of insulin, we now spend about 200 bucks per month for the vet insulin. This does NOT include the cost of syringes.

There are others, but Jasper (aka MeatLump) is the subject of this blog. You see, MeatLump has bowel issues. As in chronic constipation. Lovely, I know. Ever tried giving a cat an enema? Not a pleasant task, believe me. Anyhow, because of this, MeatLump got himself a case of the ‘roids. Now, I can sympathize. Having been there I know it ain’t fun. But, you can’t really get one of those donuts for cats to sit on.

Well, MeatLump got out of the house. Escaped. Went over the wall. Beat feet. Zipped out. Generally, got away from his horrible captors. Us. At any rate, it has been hot in STL, and he went and hid. The ‘roids got worse. A gland ruptured. It remained hot. He remained hidden. Flies did their thing. Soooo, when we finally caught up with him it was not good.

He spent a bit of time at the vet, and is doing well now. He will heal up just fine. However, because of the rupture, the ensuing larvae, etc, much shaving occured. While I sympathize with the little bastard, I can’t help but laugh. I think the picture below will show why (Trust me, not gross. Just funny.)

So, there you have MeatLump. Roid kitty sans fur.

More to come…

Murv