It was late.  I was sitting at my computer desk in the kitchen, listening to the quiet of the house, wondering when I’d be done.   There were three days left before the Rick Springfield HDNet special in Illinois, and I had a million things to do.

The pressure was on, and none of the fans wanted to hear about my sad day visiting Michael’s preschool.  The teachers felt that his issues were much greater than the paperwork had indicated (which honestly surprised me; I felt the reports had been pretty starkly harsh in their descriptions of Michael’s issues) and they had recommended doubling his time at the special needs preschool.  I’d sat today behind a glass screen while they took Michael through the paces of his day.  He screamed during his oral motor therapy, he grunted during his speech therapy, he threw the healthy snack I’d packed for him onto the floor because it was different than the usual pretzels he’d expected to see there.  I’d watched him put through the paces of the occupational therapy, which was supposed to help deal with his problems with different sensations; today he was put through a huge roller machine which applied deep pressure to him.  I’d gasped when I saw it, but he crawled in it willingly, which meant he liked it.

I was mentally exhausted, and in no mood for the drama that was certain to unfold in a few days out in Rockford. The woman helping me with the charity luncheon, Helen, was fighting with another fan about the seating and the ticketing for it.  I’d had to play intermediary, which had amounted to the fan named Diana sending back rapid fire emails and calling my house to complain.  Which wouldn’t have been a huge deal, except that Diana was one of my Shock Team managers, someone on whom I was relying upon to work on promotions for the upcoming record release.  I finally had let loose on her on the phone that evening, letting her know that I had plenty of real problems to deal with, and two adults acting like teenagers was not high on my list these days.  She hung up on me in a huff, and I saw her selling her tickets to all of the weekend’s events online a few hours later.

I’d wasted so much time with the drama that I was behind with my categorization of all of the auction items, the ticket confirmations, the follow up on all of the donations that Rick and his people were going to offer us.  And while I hadn’t guaranteed Rick’s presence in any way, I was trying to arrange that as well so that we’d raise more money.   I’d designed logos for the event and needed to make sure the posters we’d ordered were on their way to the hotel.  We had to figure out a better way to give fans entry to the luncheon; it had taken an hour for some fans to check in at our last one in 2002.  How to do it?  Oh, and I needed to double check with the hotel that they would have an internet connection available to us for our auction payments.   How many tables had the hotel agreed to put out for the auction items…would it be enough?  What if the fans who had promised to donate on site didn’t come through with their items?  We had probably 60 items that fans were bringing with them on planes, and if they somehow didn’t live up to their word, the luncheon wouldn’t raise much money.

There were reporters’ emails to answer about the event, there were fan emails to answer about the event. My friend who had offered to photograph our event was concerned about lighting, and staging of all of the fan photographs; did we want to do table shots since obviously we couldn’t have each of the 150 plus fans in individual photos with Rick.  There were a few nasty notes from friends of Diana who were all going to now boycott our luncheon in solidarity with her.  I sighed and shook my head.  I needed to stop now or I would be here all night.

I looked over at the stove and read 1:26 on the digital readout.  The kids would be up in less than five hours.  I could hear R snoring in our bed all the way upstairs.  I clicked on my computer’s sleep mode button and curled up on the sofa, hoping that somehow I would feel better about all of it in the morning.


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