First:
This is cross-posted, edited for the appropriate campaign

I am so sorry things are taking this long.

Things should start moving a little quicker. Life have just been really hard lately. A short explanation.

For some time, my youngest, who we now call Hooligan, has been struggling with chronic health problems that we haven't been able to get diagnosed. About a year and a half ago, I started having suspicions about what the problem might be and we were referred to a specialty clinic, which unfortunately took over a year to get into.

The disorder is fairly rare and there are only a certain number of facilities in the US who are capable of diagnosing it, so the wait was something.

The Good News...we have answers. It's not anything life-threatening. It is genetic and yay... I'm the guilty culprit who passed this shitty genetic disorder down to my kid (and probably Guitar Kid, to a lesser degree).

However, the diagnosis has come with a number of  follow-ups to specialists and stress to both the kiddo and me.

I've been living with the symptoms the kiddo has been dealing with for my entire life and have just dealt with the pain and all the assorted complications. For some reason, hearing the doctor in the specialty clinic talk about the various complications and connected health disorders...well.

I dunno, it was like a floodgate opened and all the health issues I've been trying to ignore just decided to flare up and decide that this year was going to be the year that I acknowledged they existed.

My pain issues have flared up. My headaches got worse. Insomnia and anxiety got worse. Pretty much every health issue I have flared up and all at the same time.

On top of that, we're dealing with trying to take the next steps in my son's healthcare.

Between getting my son to physical therapy and his various appointments and just trying to cope with my flare-ups of pain and the other chronic issues, I'm barely existing.

All of that said...

Kiddo mostly has a care plan mapped out.

It's entirely likely he'll end up on disability sooner rather than later. All the health problems I've struggled with - from pain to stomach issues to headaches, etc, his symptoms are far more debilitating.

I've had a little time to get my head wrapped around the fact that all the crap I've dealt with for ...well, forever, is, in fact, because of a specific health issue. So, I'm coping and I'm moving to the adjustment phase. And it's almost kinda nice to understand why *%^*&^ happens when I (&)(*&(& and when I ^%$$*$%)(&, I have &^*&(&).

Having answers can be weirdly cathartic. Eventually.

I don't want to go into detail about the disorder for a number of reasons, but especially because of privacy reasons. He's aware I'm discussing stuff in vague terms and is cool with it, but for his privacy and mine, I don't want to go into specifics.

On top of all of this...

Earlier in the year, one of my babies, Stitch, was put to sleep. We woke up morning and he was struggling to move. It seemed like he'd had a stroke or something.

That seriously sucked but everything got even harder because a few weeks ago, his sister, Lilo, (yes, Lilo and Stitch), went downhill fast and within a week, we made the hard decision to send her over the rainbow bridge.

Stitch hated car rides. Lilo loved them. They both loved attention, hugs, me, my guy, our kids, their sister, Willow, and each other. They were the two of the best dogs ever and losing them both so close together sent me swinging.

Stitch was one of those goofy dogs who would try to eat things nobody would think was edible. He once tried to eat a cactus. Seriously. A cactus. We had to doggy-proof our house but some part of me knew we'd lose him first.

I thought I'd have Lilo for a while longer, though. Losing both of them so close together gutted me. These two were my babies. Stitch was more my guy's baby than mine, but...they were my babies. More than any other dog we've ever owned, they were mine. They sat with me when I wrote, laid around my legs on days when I was depressed or just hurting too much to move out of bed for forever.

Now, they're gone. The one comfort is knowing that Stitch did not get away from Lilo chasing him for too long. She's now terrorizing him in a backyard where there's no poop, where they don't get fussed at for barking and if there is another dog in the yard next door...that dog is not any bigger than they are. Also, there is an endless supply of treats.

Having a handle on all of that...

I'm used to trying to move past grief and work past pain, but this year has dealt a little more than normal.

I am not knuckling under, though. For the past couple of weeks, work has been going more smoothly.

I'm hitting the point where I'm actually able to start accomplishing stuff on my way-past-needed-to-be-done list.

That means.

Getting more work done on the omnibus

I'm still working on the third story but I've also contracted a new artist and the project is moving forward there.

Again...

I am so sorry this is taking longer than expected. Your patience is a godsend and I appreciate all of you in ways I cannot express.

Future campaigns

I took on way too much for my first few campaigns and for the next year or two, I'm going to slow down a bit.

Again... my apologies on how long everything is taking.