Production Week

I am the Editor of a local magazine called Austin Family. It's sort of a part-time job, or it would be if I were less obsessive and worked smarter and had the good sense to say "no" once in a while.

For three weeks out of the month, I write or solicit editorial content and the rest of the team sells advertising and builds ads. (Austin Family is supported solely by advertising--it's free to readers!) We meet weekly to talk about editorial, design and sales and then once a month, we go through this amazing hell called "Production Week" where we pull it all together, lay it all out, and proof it to get it all ready to go to the printer. This requires a lot of very fine detail work and proofreading and I am always chagrined when I miss something really obvious. (Today, for example, after I'd gone through the magazine for the first time, the Publisher found a few pages where the month was wrong. This would fall into the category of Things That Would Require Me to Commit Hari Kiri if Published. Once, early on in my career as Editor, I missed a word in a headline that was misspelled. "Marrige." I tried to resign but my boss wouldn't let me.) So, anyway, this is Production Week and I have a headache and I seem to have used up all of my nouns, which is a big bummer since I have Things to tell you.

After a long day doing insanely detailed proofing --I find that if I stare very HARD at the magazine, it makes me feel like I'm catching everything -- I got home about 5:30. Coming up the front stair to get to the front door, one of my crutches hit a leaf or something slippery and slid out in front of me and I landed full force on my healing foot. (Only *I* could manage to fall UP a single stair.) It was more weight than even a normal walking step would have put on the foot. It's seven o'clock and my foot is still numb and very swollen. If I can tap into tomorrow's store of nouns, I'm going to e-mail my doctor to ask if I should be completely freaking out or just having a tiny nervous breakdown.

And then I had to frog (rip it) three pretty-far along socks because I had neglected to, um, measure the intended victim's feet and then knit a swatch so I could determine the gauge. (Okay, so I had nouns for that sentence but not enough to explain it to you if you are not a knitter. But just trust me, it's a maddening, rookie mistake. The Yarn Harlot ALWAYS knits a swatch and if she ever neglects to do so, she thinks the Knitting Gods curse her project.)

And then there's Jane. Jane has been having a rough week. Look:

She got in trouble at school, her dad took away her Crocs, she fell down and skinned her knee AND this is what is left of her Bee Blankie, which I have taken to calling, "The Thread." (I stole this from my friend Linda.)

The last bad thing that happened today (I can't remember now what it was) she was sobbing in frustration. "I think I need to go sit in the hot tub!"

No DNA test necessary.