I’m a chicken when it comes to swine flu.

Okay. So I didn’t go to Fiesta after all.

I finally managed to catch up with my friend yesterday afternoon for coffee and a chat before he heads off into the wild blue. That was nice. I came home, showered, changed, primped and preened a bit (only a bit) and switched on the TV to check the weather. Rain had been threatening all day.

Danger! Danger! Warning, Will Robinson! The sky is falling!
<insert relevant pieces of hyperbole here>

The newscasts were full of the outbreak of Swine flu over the border and a few cases that had popped up here in San Antonio. There were a thousand known cases in Mexico, 60 confirmed deaths and 40 suspected ones. The number of infected people in America was in the single figures and no deaths had occurred. (Phew!) None of the people here had been anywhere near pigs and all of the cases had responded to standard flu medicines.

Then they cut to overhead footage of NIOSA. Lots of people. Really close together. In a very small area. Ummm.

I decided not to go.

Influenza and MS are a really bad mix, even when the virus isn’t zoonotic in origin. The immune system reacts quite strongly to it – in fact most of the deaths from Avian flu strains in the past (aka The Spanish Flu etc..) were in young healthy people. Their peak-of-efficiency immune systems over-reacted to the virus and generated what is known as a cytokine storm – which killed them.

My old Neurologist forbad me to even get vaccinated for the flu. Anything that kicks off the immune system will also kick off an MS relapse. The last thing anyone with an auto-immune disease needs is to stimulate the immune system.

SO STAY CLEAR OF ECHINACEA. Please. Don’t let anyone talk you into taking it under any circumstances!

Sorry, momentary lapse of self-control there.

Anyway, I still needed to get out and about. So today I went over to the Alamo Quarry Market and visited Borders Book Store. Ahhhhh! It was so nice to be surrounded by books again. I miss all of mine. I know them all by name and who’s in their cliques and … um, forget I said that.

I bought a writing magazine, Writer’s Digest, and a book by the founder of National Novel Writing Month here in the States, called No Plot? No Problem. I figured that made the trip count as part of my writing efforts, a business trip, if you will. And I’m sure you will.

I would just like to state here that I definitely have a plot for my novel. I have mapped it out and know what is happening when and where. I just thought that particular book might help kick me out of my perfectionist rut and back to getting the actual story down before I edit it to my satisfaction.

Okay? Are we clear on this? Good.

Then I wandered into Old Navy and bought some light clothing. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of glancing into the mirror in the changing room before I had all my potential purchases in place. (Gotta love alliteration.)

Major bummer, dude. Not to mention the thighs and … never mind. I just thank heavens that a homeless man had paid me a compliment yesterday which got me over this bump and kept me from a complete emotional breakdown in the changing room.

I was heading into the HEB in the morning when it started to sprinkle a little. I saw this guy on a bench near the door and thought I’d cut off any request for cash by talking first (and keeping on going). So, when I drew near I said that I needed windscreen wipers.

He replied, “What you need to do, girl, is become a model and treat the world to that walk!”

Yes, I realise he’s sleeping rough and probably doesn’t see all that well, but it made me feel good.

So there.

I’m going to read my purchases now. Right after I wash my hands. (Thank you, Libby!)

ttfn,

S

Fire!

I’ve been watching the news from home and it’s all incredibly grim.

Here I am, camped out in a country where the biggest concern is lots of cold in conjuction with lots of cold wet stuff, looking back at my nation where heat is destroying entire swathes of the countryside.

In the time since I have been here, the temperature in southern Australia has been above 40 degrees celsius – I believe that is around 106 degrees Farenheit.

Train rails have buckled in the heat, the power grid has shut down in places from sheer demand and fires have been burning everywhere.

Today 108 people are dead in Victoria alone and entire towns have been reduced to ash. It’s truly awful.

It seems somehow worse that I am here trying to write a novel in which the main event is a raging bushfire. My first instinct is to stop immediately and come up with some other catastrophe – it all feels rather like I am exploiting someone else’s misery and misfortune.

This is despite the fact that Australia is a country designed to burn. Many of our native plant species have adapted so much to its incidence that they cannot germinate without fire. The trees have bark filled with flammable oils, bark designed to shed easily and blow away when alight to spark further fires many miles away.

Fire is part of the national profile and one that is going to become more common as climate change continues and our weather patterns become drier still.

Is it wrong to use this as part of a story line or is it realistic to do so? Am I being exploitative or simply facing facts?

Mind you, the story isn’t written yet and it’s hardly going to hurt anyone in that state, is it?

I live in a town which was hit badly by bushfire 5 years ago. In many ways it’s still in a state of shock.

I wish everyone back home well.

S.