Sit down. Settle in. Beer? Cola? Cheese ball?

OMIGOD, Y'ALL! It's been AGES since we last talked. Let's see, what has gone on since then? Oh, yeah. IT SNOWED AGAIN. Stupid fucking snow. I swear to cheeses, I am so over it. The piles of snow in my postage stamp yard are now several feet high, high enough for the kids to sled on. This is what happens when you have to remove three feet of snow from your walk and driveway and have only a couple small places to put it, places which already have three feet on them to begin with:







And while we were in the middle of the second blizzard, the most miraculous thing happened. Some dude showed up with a bucket loader and started clearing our whole street. See, we live on one of those cul-de-sacs that the county figures, "Eh. They can wait 'til spring to get out." So we never see a plow. But this guy's grandma lives on our street, and he wasn't gonna let her stay snowed in. And while he was at it? He decided to do the whole street. Which he did all that day. And all the next. We and most of our neighbors gave him as much money as we could for his trouble, but I will admit that many of us would have probably considered more, um, personal favors, so deep was our gratitude.

Another miraculous thing that happened this week was that the editors of a magazine called me and asked me to participate in their planning meeting for the June/July issue. I didn't have a lot of time to prepare, since I am still finishing up the last issue I will do for my not-so-current employer, and I was told that it would just be about features and not departments, so of course, it started off with brainstorming ideas for one of the departments. TRICKY.

I'm not going to say it went badly, but I will tell you that the meeting was shorter than planned because of one editor's prior commitment, and when it came time to confirm the day and time we were to reconvene, they basically said, "You know what? We'll take it from here." Um..okay! See you guys later! Save me a seat in study hall!

But I'm okay with it. First meetings are never my best, as it takes me time to get used to the new people, new process, and even though I may be an avid reader of a publication, the nitty gritty of how it is put together doesn't gel for me until I've had to get my hands in it for a few issues. I've always wished that, when I've started working at new places, whether magazines or optical shops or wherever, that there would be allowed some time to just observe. It's the same way I play video games. I watch you do it several times, and THEN I beat the pants off you. If I try to play without the benefit of observing, I spend all my time going, WHAT DOES THIS BUTTON DO AGAIN? and WHY WON'T THESE ALIENS FUCKING DIE?

But it really is okay, because that same day, my brother was in Tennessee, having his head sawed open to remove the one brain tumor that grew (instead of shrinking into nothing like its companion) after three weeks of drug therapy. When I finally got in touch with someone in my family who was at the hospital, I found out that he came through the surgery fine, that he was awake and talking, though in a lot of pain. My sister said she was able to see him for about 5 minutes, and in that time he said, "Did Meg get my email?" When she told me that, I lost it. That's when I just cried and cried and knew that nothing else mattered, nothing but that my brother was okay. Another eight feet could have fallen on us at that moment, and I would not have cared. My fabulous, funny, big-hearted big brother made it through brain surgery. There's not much that could ruin that.

And again, that same day, I got two of the sweetest emails from readers I have ever received. I don't know how they'd feel about me sharing what they said, but they know who they are, and that they warmed the cockles of my shriveled, black heart.

Today, our babysitter made it out to watch the girls for a few hours so that David and I could WORK ON MY NEW SEWING/WRITING STUDIO! The kids are going to have all their stuff, beds, dressers and all, in the basement playroom, and I am taking their light-filled, closet-laden room for my own. I decided that if I am going to spend this next year conquering the world humor writing market, that I would need to have my own room to do it in. All their stuff migrates down to the playroom anyway, and it was squeezing out what little room I had in there for sewing. We will need to somehow acquire two strapping youngsters to help us with the last of the heavy furniture, but I predict that within the next two weeks, I will have my own room. My husband thinks this now means that I will spend time sewing naked. What it really means is that when I take pictures of my crappy sewing from now on, it will be better lit.

So, even with eleventy-nine feet of snow and kids underfoot and HOW DO YOU GO BACKWARDS? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T GO BACKWARDS? WHAT DOES THAT RED BUTTON DO AGAIN?, it was still a damn fine week.

Update: After I wrote this post, my mom called. She was able to talk to the neurosurgeon this morning. It is cancer. Still waiting on biopsy results to determine what type and how aggressive. However the surgeon seemed very, very optimistic and so everyone is holding on hard to that right now.