Delivery of Backwoods Home Magazine’s Special Preparedness Issue is still a week away from delivery to our subscribers, but it is already a big hit. Our March 26 newsletter announcing the issue generated a flurry of advance orders for it, and several internet blogs, especially SurvivalBlog.com, began talking about it and generated even more orders. Since March 26 we have gotten about 400 orders for the issue. SurvivalBlog.com is an excellent site; I’ve added them to my Blogroll.
Readers of this blog may recall my March 8 post in which I said I’d elaborate on an included photo at a later date. Well, earlier tonight I did so in our newsletter, and I invite you to read it as part of this post. It reveals the gist of the upcoming issue, which is a Special Preparedness Issue. Since the newsletter is too long to email to individual mailboxes, we send newsletter subscribers a shorter email showing where the newsletter is located online. Click here for the newsletter. It’s free. At the bottom of each newsletter is a place where you can subscribe.
It will be a couple of weeks before the new Special Preparedness Issue gets to subscribers.
Robby plays with the varsity
Robby was invited to play with the varsity golf team in their tournament at Bandon Crossings golf course tomorrow. An opening developed because one of the varsity players is on vacation with his family. Robby is the No. 1 JV seed so he was bumped up to fill the spot. We got a late winter snow earlier this evening, but that didn’t stop Robby from practicing his swing, on the deck, in the snow. Lenie and I will go up and watch the tournament.
“One puke-free day, that’s all I ask,” I told my wife jokingly about 5 in the evening yesterday. That’s about the time this flu has brung my upper respiratory system to the edge and beyond of throwing up for the previous five days. I fought it all evening, then at 12:17 am, while laying in bed, my wife turned to me and said, “Congratulations, honey; you made it.” I haven’t puked since, although I’ve had the urge, even as I write this.
This flu sucks. Ask anyone who has had it, which is nearly everyone I know. Lenie was up last night between 1 and 3 am with a coughing jag, although she denies she has the flu, but “only a cold.” I’m hopefully getting over it. I’ve got a lot of work to do, especially promoting the upcoming special issue. I’ll play golf tomorrow. That will cure me.
Sometimes you just have to suck it up. Wednesday, Jake and I felt real sick. Jake had already missed the previous two days of school, and I apparently was coming down with whatever ailment he had. It was raining out too, and even our old dog, Molly, wouldn’t eat because of the pain she had in her arthritic knees and hips. It was like a hospital ward for old men, kids, and dogs.
But Robby had his first JV golf tournament that afternoon, for which I was the volunteer team driver, and Jake had a scheduled meeting at the high school with a fellow student to complete an important joint English project on the Odyssey, the ancient Greek tragic poem they had been studying together. Jake had stayed home from school again, leaving his classmate hanging, and Lenie had volunteered to relieve me by driving the golf team the two hours to the tournament up in Reedsport.
Then I got an email alert from the local newspaper saying there had been a mudslide on the coast highway leading to Reedsport that was causing delays up to two hours. Lenie and the team would be caught in that. I called the coach, Mark Hockema, hoping the tournament had been cancelled. Heavy rain and now a slide! Gotta cancel it! These are freshmen, and their rain gear hadn’t even arrived yet from the golf vendor. They may not be able to get to the tournament in time anyway, and if they do they’ll get soaked. But Coach said only lightning cancels golf in the rain, and he had called ODOT (Oregon Dept of Transportation) who said delays were now only 20 minutes at the slide.
As soon as I hung up, I decided the situation presented a good opportunity to give Jake a good life lesson on when it’s time to just suck it up and get your job done. I suggested we tend to our respective jobs in spite of how we felt, and that we drop Molly off at the office on our way so she could be with Mom.
By the time we reached Gold Beach the rain had stopped and the sun had come out. I drove the team the two hours to Forest Hills Golf Club, and Jake met the classmate at school and finished their project.
The delay at the slide was only 8 minutes, as it had been largely cleared by the time we got to it.
The rain held off for the entire tournament, with the only hitches being the large puddles of water on the course, from which the players got relief to a dry spot. Robby did well, placing second among the first-seeds he played with, and finishing with the lowest score for the Gold Beach team. I walked the entire nine holes, keeping track of Robby’s progress so I could debrief him. And I felt good while watching Robby hit every fairway and make some great lob shots.
The rain began again immediately after the tournament ended. We drove back home after a brief stop for pizza. Just below the slide, I had to pull over on the shoulder and puke in the rain.
Jake and his classmate gave their verbal presentation for their Odyssey project in class yesterday. Everyone thought it was good, Jake said. Today he is home from school again sick, and we both had to cancel our long planned plane flight this afternoon to North Carolina to see Annie and my grandkids.
I saw the nurse practitioner today and she said I have flu like everyone else in the area and told me to get Mucinex for the phlegm I was throwing up, Zicam to swab my nostrils with, and keep taking the three Ibuprofen and two Tylenol I had started. You’ll be better in a week to three weeks, she said.
Fine with me, I guess. Nothing I can do about it except moan and groan and puke up phlegm. But I’m really glad Jake and I sucked it up and did what we had to do. I think Jake will remember this episode later in life when he’s trying to make a decision about something important.
We finished deadline, and even Wonderwoman is exhausted. After every issue we have a potluck celebration in the office kitchen, but we’ll wait until Monday to have this one because everyone is just too pooped. I’m delighted with the results. I know I’ve said this before, but even after 18 1/2 years of turning out BHM issues, I still get a big charge out of finishing a deadline for a new issue.
Even my back is feeling pretty good. Silveira and I will have a few brew tonight at my house. John had a kind of relapse yesterday into whatever miserable cold bug he has had for the past month. I’m sure a brew or two will help balance the bacteria in his gut and make him feel better. I’m glad he was okay for part of deadline because I needed his help. There are certain tasks only one person can do well, and this issue I needed his skills as a researcher and writer on very short notice for a specific article.
This issue owes a lot to a lot of people. I’ve shown photos of the staff during the past week or so, but I haven’t shown you many of the writers that contributed to the issue, such as Mas Ayoob, Claire Wolfe, Jackie Clay, Sylvia Gist, Dorothy Ainsworth, Jeff Yago, Jim Dickie, Corey Gage, Joe Knight, and Brewster Gillett. I think I’ll ask them to send me a photo so I can show them off. They provided the real meat for the issue. Without talented, thorough, honest writers like them, BHM doesn’t exist.
Well, my back is out — again! Bent down yesterday to pick something up off the floor, and BAM! Just like that! I had just spent the last month recovering from pulled muscles in my back. Maybe I took up golf too soon. Oh well. At least I’m not dead.
We’ve got a good chiropractor in Gold Beach — Bob Manners — who‘ll do some therapy on it tomorrow and Friday. Got to get it travel-ready as I’m due to fly to Camp Lejeune in North Carolina March 21 to see Annie and my grandkids. Erik, unfortunately, will be in the field.
The issue is in great shape. My heroic staff, most of whom I’ve pictured in the blog this past week, will get the rest of the issue camera-ready. I’ll sit back in my rocker-glider and write my Note from the Publisher.