Jincy the cat has given me an STD. It’s from snuggling, not sex, but it’s just as embarassing: I have contracted her nasty case of ringworm. Not a worm! A fungus! Somehow, that fact makes the situation only slightly more comforting. It’s my fault that I contracted it: there seems to be a fifty/fifty chance that you’ll be susceptible to the fungus, depending a lot on your body chemistry and immune system, so we made a conscious decision to risk a parasitic fungus rather than quarrantine the cat during her formitive socialization period. Jincy is definitely socialized, all right: if she’s not snuggling on my shoulder or demanding a more supportive bra or perhaps a breast implant so that my rack can accommodate her growning body, she’s attacking us and/or kicking our asses. It’s all very charming and cute, except for the lesions on my hand and arm, which took hold the within a day of a major Post-Christmas cold/death flu situation.
The internets and Dr. Google recommend about a million cures for humans, ranging from apple cider vinegar, Absorbine Jr., raw garlic (the old wives’ go to cure for everything, apparently), and my favorite, burning the affected area with a hot lightbulb. You know what else works? Gouging it out with a grapefruit spoon, but I don’t think I’m going to try that either. I’ve tried a few creams (including the cat’s) but since I’m not about to lime sulfur dip myself, I decided to try smothering it with New Skin liquid bandage. Weirdly, it really seems to be working, as the itching stops within an hour of a fresh application and the redness is definitely going down, with the ring shrinking, but if I forget to apply a fresh coat every 24 hours or so, I immediately get the itching again. I only wish I could coat the cat with this stuff.
Aren’t you glad I shared? Consider this a public service, people!
As for the other Jincy (the author rather than the cat), the workshop went extremely well. She’s a brilliant workshop leader and has a real talent for coaxing shy participants into sharing more insight with the group. Also, she, like me, hates emoticons and the phrase “lol” which means, omg, we’re totes as one!!11! Actually, the whole venture was rather mind-blowing and I was too embarrassed, during introductions, to say who my favorite authors are, since she’s on the short list. As my story, it was really the best of both scenarios: she felt that the boat story worked, but pointed out a few places where I slipped up in voice and also a weird place where I had a comma instead of a period (I have no idea how I didn’t catch that and suspect it must have happened in one of my more recent tightenings/word shavings). Ironically (or is it coincidentally?), at the very same moment that I was in the cone of silence, watching Jincy and the other participants discuss the story and absorbing the praise, I received in my e-mail not one but TWO rejections from lit mags, including one for the very same story being discussed. It certainly softened the blow, having one of my idols then send me her critique privately, which totally erased any feelings of dumpery that came with the double dose of rejection. Now if only I could figure out why no one wants to publish the damned thing, I’ll be set.In other news, planning for the Fifth Green Bay Minicon continues. This year is the year of the Weetathlon! March 6-8, three days of friendly competition in a series of events, each one earning points for individuals as they strive for the gold… and silver… and bronze! And we’re doing good things for charity!
The best thing about the Green Bay Minicon is that I defy you to have that much fun for so little money: once you arrive, you’ll find that you’ve been transported to the prices of 1978. High Maintenance Hamburgers are two bucks and you can go out to the Bad Bar with $20 in your pocket and come home with change (especially if you have nice boobs! Or visible boobs!) And longtime Dumber Than A Box of Rocks-readers, haven’t you always wanted to party it up, Green Bay style? Or taste June’s amazing cooking? Then start here and read all about it.
You know you don’t have anything better going on in March.
