I haven't had this sm*kin' h*t b*dy since high skool

It's been quite a week or so here at Bookish Farm.

First, I decided* I needed to look for** a job.

Then I got*** a job.

Then my Hot Shot Husband was out of town for almost a week.

Then I went to the fanciest Fancy Lady Party I've ever attended. And I think you all know just how fancy I am, so this is really saying something.

Then Posey and HSH and I spent the night in the emergency room with the croup.

Where to begin?

*I didn't so much decide to look for a job as I realized with great alarm and urgency that a job was necessary, like, yesterday because we have grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle here at Bookish Farm. And that lifestyle involves eating food and heating our home. I know - very decadent.

**Sorry, Oprah, I meant to say "draw the employment of my dreams into my reality."

***I didn't so much get a job (you know - applying, interviewing, waiting) as I did answer the phone last Sunday when the publisher of one of the local weeklies called to say he had heard I might be looking for something full-time, and would I like to consider becoming the new managing editor starting almost immediately.

THANKS, OPRAH!

So, yeah. I'm going to be the new m.e. for a paper that first published in 1808. And the best part is that, although the newsroom had been running on the same technology since Day One, the new publisher has brought it into the 20th century! No more telegraph, folks. We're using phones.

And then last night, Posey must have gotten jealous of all the attention that the HSH and I were giving Dr. House. (Oh my crap, how I love Dr. House. How can he be so sarcastic and seemingly misanthropic and yet SUCH A GOOD DOCTOR? How can he seem so American and yet be so completely Australian British?)

We were a couple episodes into our House marathon, when Posey (she who had been fussy with a cold for a day) woke up sounding all asthmatic and terrifying us with this dry, barking cough. HSH and I listened to her for a minute or two, then had the identical thought: Dude - Emergency Room Trip!

That was at 11:30 p.m. After three different breathing treatments, some Tylenol and a steroid, we were sent home at 5 a.m.

Can I just say that sending two exhausted parents home with a baby who is hopped up on steroids and epinephrine breathing treatments is EXACTLY LIKE SOMETHING DR. HOUSE WOULD DO?

It rocked.

At this moment (about 12 hours later), Posey has just fallen asleep, sitting up, with her face in the sofa cushion. I'm going to wait 'til she looks really comfortable, then wake her up to play.

Comments

[ppb]

Congrats on the job. I hope it allows you to write some hilarious columns.

[Debberoo]

Congrats on the job!!!

P.S What is it with you Americans - we're British damn it, not Australian ! Slopes off muttering "things have never been the same since we lost the Empire".

[Bettie Bookish]

Seriously - Australians call themselves British? I had no idea. But that explains Cate Blanchett.

[Debberoo]

No, no don't ever ask an Australian if they are British - they'll knock your block off, or at the very least throw you on the barbie.

Now when you call us Brits, Australian we just smile politely and say "well the accent is similar but we don't have quite the same twang"

and then we slope off muttering about losing the Empire.

[moreena]

My husband has the same problem distinguishing Australian and British accents. But he always uses that tired old "not my native language" excuse.

Congratulations on the job! And also on winning the award for most confusing footnotes! I kept looking for the explanation for the asterisks in the title!

Seriously, I do love your writing. And, I'm guessing, your managing editing, as well. Hoping the croup has already left your home, and you are enjoying peacefully silent nights.

[Debbie in the UK]

Hugh Laurie is British. Well, English actually.

[revdrmom]

Your live is certainly never dull and boring!

Congratulations on the new job!

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