I am up too late trying to take care of a thousand little things that need to get done before I get on a plane Tuesday night. That is, if I actually get on a plane Tuesday night. It is up in the air, so to speak.
Three months ago, my husband was invited to be a speaker at Graphic, which takes place in Sydney, Australia. I always said I would figure out how to tolerate 16 hours in an airplane when someone picked up the tab, so saying yes was a no brainier. The organizers said they would take care of Len's visa, but I had to get my own.
Once I renewed my passport, it was a 15 minute adventure on-line, but I got it done. Less than 72 hours before departure, Len still doesn't have his. On Monday morning, he was informed he would have to get a chest x-ray. Why? Who knows? After the medical office he was told to contact said they could squeeze in the x-ray on Tuesday, but they wouldn't be able to send the results until October 11 (the day of our return flight), he was told the x-Ray wasn't necessary, but a physical was. So far, two trips for a urine test which they insisted be redone, even though we knew there would be no change because Len has a kidney condition. And the organizers knew this when he responded to the invitation.
He could do without the stress. So could I. And so could the friends who live in other parts of Australia who are planning to meet us in Sydney.
It will be a very exciting time to visit Sydney. It is Fleet Week, with the Royal Navy in the harbor, as well as tall ships and ships from around the world. Huge fireworks displays are promised, and we are supposed to have ringside seats at a cocktail party overlooking the harbor.
I am trying to stay calm and believe everything will work out alright.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Partings
A friend of mine went on line on Tuesday to let people know that she has been ill and that she is probably close to the end. I knew she was sick, since she called to tell me what she had been going through about 18 months ago. I was not totally unprepared for the news, but it is still hard to accept. Let me tell you about her now.
My friend is the writer A.C. Crispin, one of many authors whose work I knew before they themselves became a part of my life. I met Ann when Barbara Hambly (another writer and subsequently good friend) was a guest at her home in Maryland just prior to the 1988 local science fiction convention for the D.C. area. I had begun the photographic project which has been displayed in more world cities than I've been to, and I wanted to photograph Barbara for the exhibit. (At the time, I thought it would be a one-time thing in Boston in 1989. I was wrong.) In the two birds with one stone thing, I figured I would photograph Ann as well.
It turned out that Ann and I had some things in common besides living in the greater D.C. area. First off, we both used our initials for our professional work, and we were probably both influenced by D.C. Fontana to do it. Her son was a year or so older than mine, with some similar issues. She was toward the end of a bad marriage and I had been divorced for a few years. She like to cook and she liked good food. She owned horses. I loved horses. She had a hearty laugh. Everyone knew Ann because she was already deeply involved in work for the Science Fiction Writers of America. This would have a significant effect on my life. Ann and I quickly became good friends.
She even tried to teach me to ride a horse.
Ann owned two horses then, a mare named Buttons and her son Scooter. Ann had another writer friend named Paula, who lived not far from me but did not own a car. So, on a regular basis, I would pick up Paula and drive out to the country to have dinner with Ann. One day she got both of us up on the horses for a little work. I had ridden the very reliable Buttons in the past, but that day I got Scooter. It started out alright, although I know now I had no real control over the poor boy. We were moving along at a slow trot, I think, when a horse fly the size of a raven came down and bit Scooter on the croup. Canter depart. He took off for Virginia. I stayed on. Ann stopped him. At least, that's what I remember from the adrenaline rush when my heart finally went back into my chest.
Ann said he took three strides.
It was 10 years before I decided to give riding another try.
Ann had worked for the Census Bureau before becoming a best-selling novelist, and one of my favorite stories she told was of knocking on doors to collect information. In an exchange that belongs in a Chris Rock routine, she would relate the tale of the woman who named her daughter "Placenta" because when she was coming out of the twilight sleep of anesthesia, it was the most beautiful word the woman had ever heard.
When Ann and her then husband were thinking about taking a vacation to a dude ranch, I pointed her in the direction of one that was run by my mother's good friend in the Catskills. The trip was a huge success, with Ann schooling some of the string horses over the course of the week. That's Ann, always pitching in to help.
When Ann lent me a copy of Yesterday's Son, her very successful Star Trek tie-in, in audio form, I think it was the first time my son Michael realized that real people wrote books (he was six at the time.) The narrator read "written by A.C. Crispin" and Michael nearly jumped out of his seat belt. "A.C. Crispin! That's Jason's mom!" He was very impressed. At that point, Ann told me, Jason was in the "why can't you be a secretary like a normal mom" stage.
Ann and I wound up hanging out at several conventions over the first year I knew her, in addition to the time we spent at each others' houses. We had a particularly good girls' weekend away at the World Science Fiction Convention in New Orleans, and she was my ticket to things like publishers' parties. More importantly, she introduced me to many of the authors I wanted to meet to photograph for the exhibit. She introduced me to George R.R. Martin, long before he was GEORGE R.R. MARTIN. She introduced me to Robert Silverberg, who declined to be photographed (but who was much subdued a year later when he saw the work and his photograph was not included; he did get added.) At every party, she made introductions and talked up the project. In many ways, Ann really built the momentum on the Portrait Project until it became something people felt needed to include them.
When I left D.C. to go to law school in Cleveland, Ann bought my freezer. She would occasionally send updates on the thing until it finally died. I think she got far more use out of it than I did. It certainly seemed to give her a lot of pleasure.
I had only been out of law school for a few years when Ann and the Science Fiction Writers of America came to ask me if I would consider taking over as general counsel. I had been a creative rights activist for a number of years, which was what prompted my decision to go to law school, and my interest was in practicing law to protect creators.
Turned out, it was actually more like herding cats. No one comes away unscathed.
Nevertheless, Ann was on the board of directors of SFWA and she was already involved with the then President of SFWA, Michael Capobianco, who has been her husband for more than a dozen years. They, along with GRRM, convinced the rest of the board I was a great choice to replace their previous general counsel. It was a great fit while Michael was president and I think we did a lot of good work together.
Ann's big cause for more than the past twenty years has been Writer Beware, a way to warn new or want-to-be writers about the dangers of scams and scammers. Ann really put herself on the line, and was threatened often and sued on more than one occasion for naming names. I don't think she ever had a judgment against her, showing that the truth can be a perfect defense. Publishing scams became huge because of the Internet and Ann was there fighting back every day, trying to save people from broken dreams, broken hearts, and broken bank accounts.
I haven't seen Ann in several years, since we don't go to as many conventions as we once did. I saw her in San Francisco in 2009, when Michael Capobianco and I were part of a committee trying to rewrite the SFWA bylaws and plan a reincorporation of the organization. Ann spent part of the days with my husband and the wives of some of the other committee members, enjoying the sights of San Francisco. She did not make it to L.A. for the Nebula Awards I chaired that spring, but we did stay in touch by phone and e-mail.
I had hoped to see her this summer at Comic-con, when she was named a Grandmaster of writing tie-in fiction, but the state of her health did not permit her to attend the ceremony. I am sorry I am not likely to see her again.
I am convinced that Ann is leaving the world a better place than it would have been without her. What better can anyone do with a life? She has improved the lives of the people who knew her and countless others who never had the good fortune to make her acquaintance.
Vale, Ann, ad astra. I have been and always shall be your friend.
September 6, 2013. Ann passed away this morning. Our thoughts go out to Michael Capobianco and her son Jason.
My friend is the writer A.C. Crispin, one of many authors whose work I knew before they themselves became a part of my life. I met Ann when Barbara Hambly (another writer and subsequently good friend) was a guest at her home in Maryland just prior to the 1988 local science fiction convention for the D.C. area. I had begun the photographic project which has been displayed in more world cities than I've been to, and I wanted to photograph Barbara for the exhibit. (At the time, I thought it would be a one-time thing in Boston in 1989. I was wrong.) In the two birds with one stone thing, I figured I would photograph Ann as well.
It turned out that Ann and I had some things in common besides living in the greater D.C. area. First off, we both used our initials for our professional work, and we were probably both influenced by D.C. Fontana to do it. Her son was a year or so older than mine, with some similar issues. She was toward the end of a bad marriage and I had been divorced for a few years. She like to cook and she liked good food. She owned horses. I loved horses. She had a hearty laugh. Everyone knew Ann because she was already deeply involved in work for the Science Fiction Writers of America. This would have a significant effect on my life. Ann and I quickly became good friends.
She even tried to teach me to ride a horse.
Ann owned two horses then, a mare named Buttons and her son Scooter. Ann had another writer friend named Paula, who lived not far from me but did not own a car. So, on a regular basis, I would pick up Paula and drive out to the country to have dinner with Ann. One day she got both of us up on the horses for a little work. I had ridden the very reliable Buttons in the past, but that day I got Scooter. It started out alright, although I know now I had no real control over the poor boy. We were moving along at a slow trot, I think, when a horse fly the size of a raven came down and bit Scooter on the croup. Canter depart. He took off for Virginia. I stayed on. Ann stopped him. At least, that's what I remember from the adrenaline rush when my heart finally went back into my chest.
Ann said he took three strides.
It was 10 years before I decided to give riding another try.
Ann had worked for the Census Bureau before becoming a best-selling novelist, and one of my favorite stories she told was of knocking on doors to collect information. In an exchange that belongs in a Chris Rock routine, she would relate the tale of the woman who named her daughter "Placenta" because when she was coming out of the twilight sleep of anesthesia, it was the most beautiful word the woman had ever heard.
When Ann and her then husband were thinking about taking a vacation to a dude ranch, I pointed her in the direction of one that was run by my mother's good friend in the Catskills. The trip was a huge success, with Ann schooling some of the string horses over the course of the week. That's Ann, always pitching in to help.
When Ann lent me a copy of Yesterday's Son, her very successful Star Trek tie-in, in audio form, I think it was the first time my son Michael realized that real people wrote books (he was six at the time.) The narrator read "written by A.C. Crispin" and Michael nearly jumped out of his seat belt. "A.C. Crispin! That's Jason's mom!" He was very impressed. At that point, Ann told me, Jason was in the "why can't you be a secretary like a normal mom" stage.
Ann and I wound up hanging out at several conventions over the first year I knew her, in addition to the time we spent at each others' houses. We had a particularly good girls' weekend away at the World Science Fiction Convention in New Orleans, and she was my ticket to things like publishers' parties. More importantly, she introduced me to many of the authors I wanted to meet to photograph for the exhibit. She introduced me to George R.R. Martin, long before he was GEORGE R.R. MARTIN. She introduced me to Robert Silverberg, who declined to be photographed (but who was much subdued a year later when he saw the work and his photograph was not included; he did get added.) At every party, she made introductions and talked up the project. In many ways, Ann really built the momentum on the Portrait Project until it became something people felt needed to include them.
When I left D.C. to go to law school in Cleveland, Ann bought my freezer. She would occasionally send updates on the thing until it finally died. I think she got far more use out of it than I did. It certainly seemed to give her a lot of pleasure.
I had only been out of law school for a few years when Ann and the Science Fiction Writers of America came to ask me if I would consider taking over as general counsel. I had been a creative rights activist for a number of years, which was what prompted my decision to go to law school, and my interest was in practicing law to protect creators.
Turned out, it was actually more like herding cats. No one comes away unscathed.
Nevertheless, Ann was on the board of directors of SFWA and she was already involved with the then President of SFWA, Michael Capobianco, who has been her husband for more than a dozen years. They, along with GRRM, convinced the rest of the board I was a great choice to replace their previous general counsel. It was a great fit while Michael was president and I think we did a lot of good work together.
Ann's big cause for more than the past twenty years has been Writer Beware, a way to warn new or want-to-be writers about the dangers of scams and scammers. Ann really put herself on the line, and was threatened often and sued on more than one occasion for naming names. I don't think she ever had a judgment against her, showing that the truth can be a perfect defense. Publishing scams became huge because of the Internet and Ann was there fighting back every day, trying to save people from broken dreams, broken hearts, and broken bank accounts.
I haven't seen Ann in several years, since we don't go to as many conventions as we once did. I saw her in San Francisco in 2009, when Michael Capobianco and I were part of a committee trying to rewrite the SFWA bylaws and plan a reincorporation of the organization. Ann spent part of the days with my husband and the wives of some of the other committee members, enjoying the sights of San Francisco. She did not make it to L.A. for the Nebula Awards I chaired that spring, but we did stay in touch by phone and e-mail.
I had hoped to see her this summer at Comic-con, when she was named a Grandmaster of writing tie-in fiction, but the state of her health did not permit her to attend the ceremony. I am sorry I am not likely to see her again.
I am convinced that Ann is leaving the world a better place than it would have been without her. What better can anyone do with a life? She has improved the lives of the people who knew her and countless others who never had the good fortune to make her acquaintance.
Vale, Ann, ad astra. I have been and always shall be your friend.
September 6, 2013. Ann passed away this morning. Our thoughts go out to Michael Capobianco and her son Jason.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Game of Premiers
Being a teenager pretty much sucks for almost everyone. That's why Janis Ian's song "At Seventeen" resonates. Last night was another in my series of "things I wish I could tell my fourteen year old self so she would know it gets really great, not just better."
Last evening, we attended a genuine Hollywood premier for the third season of Game of Thrones. Because of our long-standing friendship with George R.R. Martin, we scored tickets. The first hour of the season, which will be on HBO on Easter Sunday, was screened at the famous Grauman's Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard. Here are some of the red carpet arrivals. Then about 1100 people slowly crossed the street to go to the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel for food, music, and other things in the theme of a Dothraki market as an after-party. I got home about 1 a.m., a very late night for the work week. I would not have missed it for anything.
I spent a good portion of the evening just hanging out at the table with George, because everybody came to pay respects to the Godfather. At least that's what it looked like to me. Len was with us for only a short while, since he had to go off to dialysis. After he left, I did wander around and went up to the balcony, from which I took the photograph of the musicians playing in the ante-area of the ballroom. I wish I had packed an actual camera, instead of only the iPhone, but some premiers will take away any cameras and it is a pain to wait to get them back later. In spite of the language in the invitation, this was not one of them.
I shot at a torso with a cross-bow and easily hit it. I did not find the actual archery set up, but Melinda Snodgrass said she did well at it. Like her, I actually took it as a class in college and I'm really got at it as well. So I am sorry I missed it. I passed up having my photographed taken with a sword and having a soothsayer give me a fortune never appeals to me. But, much as I hate needles and pain, I am perfectly happy to get temporary tattoos by airbrush or henna, so I got one of the House Stark dire wolf sigil.
I got to chat with a number of the actors and some of the producers as well. I had met Nikolaj Coster-Walau at Comic-con two summers ago (we were huge fans of the short-lived "New Amsterdam,") so it was Melinda who was excited to meet him. I didn't see Jason Mamoa, but I had met him in the elevator when they moved the cast from the panel room to the private Warner Bros. balcony in the dealers' room at Comic-con. He was very funny and had undergone two hours of make-up so he could thrill the audience when he took off his sunglasses to reveal the Khal Drogo look.
Kit Harington, the heart throb Jon Snow, came by the table for a few words and could not have been nicer. George took Melinda and I over to meet Gwendoline Christie, the actress who plays Brienne of Tarth. Reports are she's only 6'3" but she was wearing heels and towered over everyone in an amazing minidress--if you've got it, flaunt it. I crossed paths with Natalie Tena on a stair case and told her that our friend Dani had named her car after Tonks. She got a big kick out of that and gave me a huge hug. Utterly delightful.
I spoke briefly with Charles Dance, who appeared to be in attendance by himself. I loved him in The Jewel in the Crown on PBS back in the 1980s. He is formidable as Tywin, and has quite a scene with the wonderful Peter Dinklage in the first episode of the new season.
Tyrion's lover Shae, the delicate Sibel Kikilli, was charming. I noticed that Kit Harington and Richard Madden (Rob Stark) looked enough in face and build to actually be brothers, or the putative half-brothers they play in the series. Sophie Turner (Sansa Stark) is taller than Richard. And Isaac Hempstead Wright (Bran) has had a tremendous growth spurt. It's a good thing he isn't supposed to be able to walk any more, because it would be hard to hide how tall he has gotten.
I was especially pleased to get a few minutes to talk to Maisie Williams, who becomes the character to watch in every scene she has. Arya is my favorite character in the book. Arya and Brienne are the two characters who set this whole series apart in my mind from any other epic fantasy I have read, especially my beloved "Lord of the Rings."
As a friend of mine, Pat Murphy, has written, girls love these kinds of books as much as boys do, but usually they are put in the position of having to choose a male character to re-imagine as female in any kind of role-playing for Mary-sue fantasy. For all of the crap George has gotten for writing these books that are full of the ugly truth about women in feudal societies, he has created these two wonderful, adventurous, and gutsy females. The American Tolkien has done the Original Tolkien one better. Or maybe two. When Arya tells her perplexed father "that's not me," I just wanted to shout YES. George had gushed about Maisie from the time the show started running, and she is just an amazing young actress. Her prior training in dance has served her well in her training a swordswoman and I cannot wait to see how she handles Arya's growth in the next books.
A few minutes from now (Tuesday, March 19, 7:40 PM), the Television Academy will be streaming "An Evening with A Game of Thrones" live from the Chinese Theatre. Watch it here. [The introduction of the show indicated that the Q & A will be available for watching after the actual event. It was a very funny evening, and if you are a fan of the show, I recommend setting aside the 90 or so minutes to watch it.]
Last evening, we attended a genuine Hollywood premier for the third season of Game of Thrones. Because of our long-standing friendship with George R.R. Martin, we scored tickets. The first hour of the season, which will be on HBO on Easter Sunday, was screened at the famous Grauman's Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard. Here are some of the red carpet arrivals. Then about 1100 people slowly crossed the street to go to the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel for food, music, and other things in the theme of a Dothraki market as an after-party. I got home about 1 a.m., a very late night for the work week. I would not have missed it for anything.
I shot at a torso with a cross-bow and easily hit it. I did not find the actual archery set up, but Melinda Snodgrass said she did well at it. Like her, I actually took it as a class in college and I'm really got at it as well. So I am sorry I missed it. I passed up having my photographed taken with a sword and having a soothsayer give me a fortune never appeals to me. But, much as I hate needles and pain, I am perfectly happy to get temporary tattoos by airbrush or henna, so I got one of the House Stark dire wolf sigil.
Kit Harington, the heart throb Jon Snow, came by the table for a few words and could not have been nicer. George took Melinda and I over to meet Gwendoline Christie, the actress who plays Brienne of Tarth. Reports are she's only 6'3" but she was wearing heels and towered over everyone in an amazing minidress--if you've got it, flaunt it. I crossed paths with Natalie Tena on a stair case and told her that our friend Dani had named her car after Tonks. She got a big kick out of that and gave me a huge hug. Utterly delightful.
I spoke briefly with Charles Dance, who appeared to be in attendance by himself. I loved him in The Jewel in the Crown on PBS back in the 1980s. He is formidable as Tywin, and has quite a scene with the wonderful Peter Dinklage in the first episode of the new season.
Tyrion's lover Shae, the delicate Sibel Kikilli, was charming. I noticed that Kit Harington and Richard Madden (Rob Stark) looked enough in face and build to actually be brothers, or the putative half-brothers they play in the series. Sophie Turner (Sansa Stark) is taller than Richard. And Isaac Hempstead Wright (Bran) has had a tremendous growth spurt. It's a good thing he isn't supposed to be able to walk any more, because it would be hard to hide how tall he has gotten.
I was especially pleased to get a few minutes to talk to Maisie Williams, who becomes the character to watch in every scene she has. Arya is my favorite character in the book. Arya and Brienne are the two characters who set this whole series apart in my mind from any other epic fantasy I have read, especially my beloved "Lord of the Rings."
As a friend of mine, Pat Murphy, has written, girls love these kinds of books as much as boys do, but usually they are put in the position of having to choose a male character to re-imagine as female in any kind of role-playing for Mary-sue fantasy. For all of the crap George has gotten for writing these books that are full of the ugly truth about women in feudal societies, he has created these two wonderful, adventurous, and gutsy females. The American Tolkien has done the Original Tolkien one better. Or maybe two. When Arya tells her perplexed father "that's not me," I just wanted to shout YES. George had gushed about Maisie from the time the show started running, and she is just an amazing young actress. Her prior training in dance has served her well in her training a swordswoman and I cannot wait to see how she handles Arya's growth in the next books.
A few minutes from now (Tuesday, March 19, 7:40 PM), the Television Academy will be streaming "An Evening with A Game of Thrones" live from the Chinese Theatre. Watch it here. [The introduction of the show indicated that the Q & A will be available for watching after the actual event. It was a very funny evening, and if you are a fan of the show, I recommend setting aside the 90 or so minutes to watch it.]
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
The International Bank of Bob
Bob's book comes out next month. If you live in San Francisco (March 5, St. Regis Hotel), Los Angeles (March 13, Barnes & Noble at The Grove), or New York (March 29 at The Strand Bookstore), there will be appearances and signings to celebrate the event. I've read two drafts of the book, and, like Bob's Prisoner of Trebekistan, it is informative, entertaining and touching. You can support your local bookstore by buying a copy there, or, if you no longer have one, order it from Amazon.
I would also encourage you to participate in Kiva. The Friends of Bob Harris welcomes new members and this link credits your acceptance to me. Be sure to designate The Friends of Bob Harris as your lending team when you join. (The designation "closed team" only means you have to make a request to join.) So far, our team of just over 1,000 members has made over 100,000 loans totaling just over $3,000,000. That puts us in position number four for all time, behind the 25,000 member Athiest and Agnostics team, the 10,000 member Christian team, and the 1500 member Milepoint team (as of today.)
I have chosen to reinvest my money as loans have been repaid. I've made loans to women in almost 50 countries, and I'm happy to say there are now loans available to fund here in the United States. I do have a soft-spot for women with horses and women artists and artisans, but my portfolio is pretty varied in terms of businesses. While I do not aspire to operate The International Bank of Christine, I do like to think I am doing my best to make the world a better place, one $25 loan at a time.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
When You Think Things Can't Get Worse...
Time just keeps whooshing on by. And owning horses continues to empty pockets. I wasn't spending it anyway.
Ace has been in the hospital for a month. It started with a swelling of the eye that Ashley noticed. Then the eye was weeping rather uncontrollably. The vet came out several times, then told me I should either get a horse opthomologist or take him to a hospital for another opinion. We took him to a hospital where one of the vets has a special interest in eyes.
The treatment seemed to be working and then it stopped working. My vet came out again, Ace then headed back to the hospital. This time he was admitted. Six days later I had to give permission for surgery to try and save the eye: a fungal infection had eaten into the cornea. Again, he appeared to improve. Then he stopped improving. Last Thursday I went to visit him and two vets sat me down to discuss removing the eye.
I was stunned and heart-broken. The poor horse was in pain and not improving. The vets said to go home and sleep on it, or even take the weekend to make a decision.
I was ready to let them do the surgery because Ace would no longer be in discomfort. I've had a corneal abrasion. I know how much it hurts. I was planning to drive out to see him again and give permission for the second surgery.
The vet called when I was getting out of the shower. Ace had dramatically improved over night. The vet would not want to do the surgery if I gave permission.
As of two days ago, when I went for a visit, Ace continues to improve. I even looked at the eye (I'm a bit squeamish about these things) and the vet is very happy with his progress. He calls Ace an ideal patient. I am cautiously optimistic that he will not lose the eye.
Whether he will regain his vision in his right eye remains to be seen. I do know that most horses adjust to blindness better than I would. Ace seems to be doing just fine when I take him out for a walk and when I scatter carrots throughout his hay for a treat. I hope he'll be able to come home soon, because driving out to Somis became a lot more difficult when my Christmas break ended on Monday. Ace is greatly missed at the barn.
Ace has been in the hospital for a month. It started with a swelling of the eye that Ashley noticed. Then the eye was weeping rather uncontrollably. The vet came out several times, then told me I should either get a horse opthomologist or take him to a hospital for another opinion. We took him to a hospital where one of the vets has a special interest in eyes.
The treatment seemed to be working and then it stopped working. My vet came out again, Ace then headed back to the hospital. This time he was admitted. Six days later I had to give permission for surgery to try and save the eye: a fungal infection had eaten into the cornea. Again, he appeared to improve. Then he stopped improving. Last Thursday I went to visit him and two vets sat me down to discuss removing the eye.
I was stunned and heart-broken. The poor horse was in pain and not improving. The vets said to go home and sleep on it, or even take the weekend to make a decision.
I was ready to let them do the surgery because Ace would no longer be in discomfort. I've had a corneal abrasion. I know how much it hurts. I was planning to drive out to see him again and give permission for the second surgery.
The vet called when I was getting out of the shower. Ace had dramatically improved over night. The vet would not want to do the surgery if I gave permission.
As of two days ago, when I went for a visit, Ace continues to improve. I even looked at the eye (I'm a bit squeamish about these things) and the vet is very happy with his progress. He calls Ace an ideal patient. I am cautiously optimistic that he will not lose the eye.
Whether he will regain his vision in his right eye remains to be seen. I do know that most horses adjust to blindness better than I would. Ace seems to be doing just fine when I take him out for a walk and when I scatter carrots throughout his hay for a treat. I hope he'll be able to come home soon, because driving out to Somis became a lot more difficult when my Christmas break ended on Monday. Ace is greatly missed at the barn.
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