My book editor offered a (completely unsolicited) extra six days for me to work on finishing the second half of my manuscript. I'm a stickler about deadlines and would never have dreamed of asking for an extension, even if the last chapter killed me, but my book editor is awesome and must have ESP because she just made my week.
Michael brought over jambalaya for dinner that was so good it made me want to ask him to be my lawful wedded wife, but I refrained. We watched a documentary on Charles Busch (The Lady in Question) instead. "I hate this house! I hate these walls... I hate that sofa! The only part of this dump that doesn't make me puke is that door - because that's the way I'm gettin' out!" ~Angela Arden
I get to see my favorite Aleigh in Savannah this weekend. Since I promised not to talk her out of getting married (which wasn't hard, since her fiance is a gem and a catch and a charmer), I get to be her break from talkin' 'bout the wedding stuff. Al and I generate a lot of creative energy together and I always end up with pages of scribbled ideas from our visits.
I think I'll be ready for the roller derby in about a year if I keep roller skating once a week. Adult skate, Thursday evenings, 6:30 to 8:30, Hotwheels James Island. $3 for admission AND skate rental. I'm skipping this Thursday, but will be back on wheels April 5. Janet, Katie, Leigh and I had a lot of fun last week (YES all my friends have blogs) because it's so very 80s and such a great feeling to pretend you're 13 again for a couple of hours. I leave you with two words: Side ponytails!
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The next tattoo...
won't happen until I finish my book and re-hire my cleaning lady and maybe my shrink and I actually have groceries in my house and my life settles down a bit. I thought the next one on my wrist would be another star or something like that, but Aleigh and I have been discussing interesting Latin phrases one might want tattooed on oneself. For example:
Magister Mundi sum! (I am the Master of the Universe!) and (thank God I wasn't old enough to get tattooed in the 80s) Fac me cocleario vomere! (Gag me with a spoon!). Top of the list right now: Audio, video, disco (translates as "I hear, I see, I learn," but what I really like is that most people won't know it is Latin).
This is my current wrist tattoo. I will be adding to it. Ideas are welcome.
Magister Mundi sum! (I am the Master of the Universe!) and (thank God I wasn't old enough to get tattooed in the 80s) Fac me cocleario vomere! (Gag me with a spoon!). Top of the list right now: Audio, video, disco (translates as "I hear, I see, I learn," but what I really like is that most people won't know it is Latin).
This is my current wrist tattoo. I will be adding to it. Ideas are welcome.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
It happens to me every year...
I grieve all over again. Every year I think it won't happen again. But it does. And in honor of thinking just last night that I needed to tell him something and realizing he wouldn't pick up the phone when I called and feeling like it was the first time I believed it, I post this poem.
HOW IT WILL HAPPEN, WHEN
There you are, exhausted from a night of crying, curled up on the couch, the floor, at the foot of the bed, anywhere you fall you fall down crying, half amazed at what the body is capable of, not believing you can cry anymore. And there they are, his socks, his shirt, your underwear and your winter gloves, all in a loose pile next to the bathroom door, and you fall down again. Someday, years from now, things will be different, the house clean for once, everything in its place, windows shining, sun coming in easily now, sliding across the high shine of wax on the wood floor. You'll be peeling an orange or watching a bird spring from the edge of the rooftop next door, noticing how, for an instant, its body is stopped on the air, only a moment before gathering the will to fly into the ruff at its wings and then doing it: flying. You'll be reading, and for a moment there will be a word you don't understand, a simple word like now or what or is and you'll ponder over it like a child discovering language. Is you'll say over and over until it begins to make sense, and that's when you'll say it, for the first time, out loud: He's dead. He's not coming back. And it will be the first time you believe it.
-Dorianne Laux
HOW IT WILL HAPPEN, WHEN
There you are, exhausted from a night of crying, curled up on the couch, the floor, at the foot of the bed, anywhere you fall you fall down crying, half amazed at what the body is capable of, not believing you can cry anymore. And there they are, his socks, his shirt, your underwear and your winter gloves, all in a loose pile next to the bathroom door, and you fall down again. Someday, years from now, things will be different, the house clean for once, everything in its place, windows shining, sun coming in easily now, sliding across the high shine of wax on the wood floor. You'll be peeling an orange or watching a bird spring from the edge of the rooftop next door, noticing how, for an instant, its body is stopped on the air, only a moment before gathering the will to fly into the ruff at its wings and then doing it: flying. You'll be reading, and for a moment there will be a word you don't understand, a simple word like now or what or is and you'll ponder over it like a child discovering language. Is you'll say over and over until it begins to make sense, and that's when you'll say it, for the first time, out loud: He's dead. He's not coming back. And it will be the first time you believe it.
-Dorianne Laux
Friday, March 16, 2007
You never miss the water till the well has run dry...
This is my second St. Pat's Day since I gave up the drink. Last year, I spent the day sulking and begrudging everyone else's merriment. This year, I'm going to suck it up and celebrate the day tomorrow by watching my all-time favorite movie, The Boondock Saints for the 25th time (my new masthead is in its honor). Wishing everyone a safe and happy...
"May you live to be a hundred years
With one extra year to repent."
~Irish Blessing
"May you live to be a hundred years
With one extra year to repent."
~Irish Blessing
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Stuff and nonsense...
I'm not sure if it's the endorphins from yoga or the Happy Baby Pose that makes me laugh so hard in the middle of yoga class. This also happens to be my friend Katie's favorite yoga pose.
I want a Mr. Bento, even though I rarely bring lunch in such an organized fashion. My lunch usually consists of a pop top can of low sodium, low fat, Italian Wedding Soup (I love to pick out the little meatballs) or a chicken breast. I feel like I would create healthy, extravagant lunches if I had Mr. Bento. At the least, I could just take pictures of what I put into Mr. Bento.
Tearwater tea is very good for us, according to Owl at Home. Although, The Pig not having the healthy low sodium, low fat, only-kind-of-soup I like on the shelf is not on the list, so bursting into tears on the soup aisle this week was probably inappropriate.
I was so close to returning that fussy shirt/dress I bought at Target on impulse last week that it was in the bag with the receipt until this morning, when I decided to wear it. I'm glad I didn't take it back.
Last night I dreamed that Nora Ephron called and wanted to take me to lunch because she read my blog and thought I needed a reality check. I did just finish reading her latest book. I think it's because she seems like she wouldn't put up with (my) whiny crap, plus she's dealt with a lot more in her life than I have to date. I do not know what a reality check with Ms. Ephron would consist of, but I was looking forward to it.
I'm hoping to make roller-skating my regular Thursday evening activity now that the light lasts longer and it won't feel so late at 6:30.
Positivity, people! I'm full of it today. Take that any way you'd like.
I want a Mr. Bento, even though I rarely bring lunch in such an organized fashion. My lunch usually consists of a pop top can of low sodium, low fat, Italian Wedding Soup (I love to pick out the little meatballs) or a chicken breast. I feel like I would create healthy, extravagant lunches if I had Mr. Bento. At the least, I could just take pictures of what I put into Mr. Bento.
Tearwater tea is very good for us, according to Owl at Home. Although, The Pig not having the healthy low sodium, low fat, only-kind-of-soup I like on the shelf is not on the list, so bursting into tears on the soup aisle this week was probably inappropriate.
I was so close to returning that fussy shirt/dress I bought at Target on impulse last week that it was in the bag with the receipt until this morning, when I decided to wear it. I'm glad I didn't take it back.
Last night I dreamed that Nora Ephron called and wanted to take me to lunch because she read my blog and thought I needed a reality check. I did just finish reading her latest book. I think it's because she seems like she wouldn't put up with (my) whiny crap, plus she's dealt with a lot more in her life than I have to date. I do not know what a reality check with Ms. Ephron would consist of, but I was looking forward to it.
I'm hoping to make roller-skating my regular Thursday evening activity now that the light lasts longer and it won't feel so late at 6:30.
Positivity, people! I'm full of it today. Take that any way you'd like.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Hate. Springing. Forward.
This time of year always gives me a case of the Mean Reds, and I've felt this one coming on for weeks. The change in seasons, the getting up earlier, the morning darkness, the spring in the air that makes me feel afraid and disturbingly nostalgic for things I don't want to think about anymore.
Since my life is in total disarray (I'm not exaggerating), I'm trying to decide which would be more effective: finding a new shrink or re-hiring my cleaning lady. They both cost about the same, but the shrink won't clean my house or fold my laundry or make the dust bunnies in the corners go away. On the other hand, my cleaning lady won't tell me to get the f*ck off the couch and start living my life. Or figure out why I go through these phases of hating myself that literally incapacitate me.
I detest myself even more for complaining, because so many other things in my life are so great. I have everything I've wished for since I can remember. I have wonderful friends & family, a job I adore, and a book deal. I have more things to be grateful for than I ever have in my whole life, therefore I suck for lying on the couch all weekend watching old episodes of Grey's Anatomy on DVD and weeping every 45 minutes or so.
I know it isn't depression; it's fear. Fear of death, success, loss, letting go, failure, dirt, outdoors, people, food, life...everything is worthy of dread. The good news is that I've been here before and I know it won't last. I always get through, push it aside, suck it up, and move on with my life. I need a good yoga class, bike ride, shopping spree, house cleaning, or sharp rap to the back of my head to get going again. And I think I'm going to try and make all of those happen this week.
"... the blues are because you're getting fat or because it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?"
~Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffanys
Since my life is in total disarray (I'm not exaggerating), I'm trying to decide which would be more effective: finding a new shrink or re-hiring my cleaning lady. They both cost about the same, but the shrink won't clean my house or fold my laundry or make the dust bunnies in the corners go away. On the other hand, my cleaning lady won't tell me to get the f*ck off the couch and start living my life. Or figure out why I go through these phases of hating myself that literally incapacitate me.
I detest myself even more for complaining, because so many other things in my life are so great. I have everything I've wished for since I can remember. I have wonderful friends & family, a job I adore, and a book deal. I have more things to be grateful for than I ever have in my whole life, therefore I suck for lying on the couch all weekend watching old episodes of Grey's Anatomy on DVD and weeping every 45 minutes or so.
I know it isn't depression; it's fear. Fear of death, success, loss, letting go, failure, dirt, outdoors, people, food, life...everything is worthy of dread. The good news is that I've been here before and I know it won't last. I always get through, push it aside, suck it up, and move on with my life. I need a good yoga class, bike ride, shopping spree, house cleaning, or sharp rap to the back of my head to get going again. And I think I'm going to try and make all of those happen this week.
"... the blues are because you're getting fat or because it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?"
~Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffanys
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Blogging against sexism...
For today's Blog Against Sexism Day, I thought I'd share a little piece-in-progress from my upcoming book (pub date January 2008), which is all about women at work. Fighting sexism in the workplace has been a passion of mine since I got my first job at 15. Now I get to write about it and really make a difference.
Myth: Men make better CEOs.
Fact: Men make more CEOs, but that’s only because people believe fables like “men are more aggressive” or “men are cutthroat.” It’s irresponsible to make broad, sweeping statements like this about either gender. I’ve known women who are more competitive in the business world than any man you’ll ever meet. I’ve seen women walk into boardrooms à la Joan Crawford addressing PepsiCo (“don’t f*ck with me fellas, this ain’t my first time at the rodeo”), bring an out-of-control meeting to attention, close on a merger agreement, and book a flight to another city to meet with employees for a company they just bought—all in the space of 10 minutes.
Women are natural nurturers and problem solvers, no matter how assertive, aggressive and ambitious we are. Every company in the world is about the bottom line; without it, our economy would crash and anarchy would ensue. Companies are getting smarter and beginning to realize that gender diversity is beneficial to their bottom line. Where men fail, women can succeed—and vice versa. Gone are the days of choosing the “right man for the job.” Logically, considering that companies are placing higher value on the cost savings of employee retention and having a compassionate business model, corporate America is waking up to the fact that the right man for the job is often a woman. Regardless, we’re not asking to replace every male CEO with a female. What we do want is an accurate representation of the gender balance in corporate America on the list of CEOs in corporate America.
We don't want more. We just want the same. Every woman has the power to help close the wage gap. We don't even have to march or carry signs. Just ASK for more money, ASK for the promotion, ASK what you can do to earn it, ASK how you can move up that ladder. And if you don't get the answer you want, move on until you find a company who will pay you what you're worth. If we all stand up for ourselves, corporate America will have to find someone else to fetch the coffee and work for 75% of our male counterpart's salaries.
Get updates on my book and more at the Skirt! Books MySpace page. (as if you need another reason to FINALLY get on MySpace!)
Myth: Men make better CEOs.
Fact: Men make more CEOs, but that’s only because people believe fables like “men are more aggressive” or “men are cutthroat.” It’s irresponsible to make broad, sweeping statements like this about either gender. I’ve known women who are more competitive in the business world than any man you’ll ever meet. I’ve seen women walk into boardrooms à la Joan Crawford addressing PepsiCo (“don’t f*ck with me fellas, this ain’t my first time at the rodeo”), bring an out-of-control meeting to attention, close on a merger agreement, and book a flight to another city to meet with employees for a company they just bought—all in the space of 10 minutes.
Women are natural nurturers and problem solvers, no matter how assertive, aggressive and ambitious we are. Every company in the world is about the bottom line; without it, our economy would crash and anarchy would ensue. Companies are getting smarter and beginning to realize that gender diversity is beneficial to their bottom line. Where men fail, women can succeed—and vice versa. Gone are the days of choosing the “right man for the job.” Logically, considering that companies are placing higher value on the cost savings of employee retention and having a compassionate business model, corporate America is waking up to the fact that the right man for the job is often a woman. Regardless, we’re not asking to replace every male CEO with a female. What we do want is an accurate representation of the gender balance in corporate America on the list of CEOs in corporate America.
We don't want more. We just want the same. Every woman has the power to help close the wage gap. We don't even have to march or carry signs. Just ASK for more money, ASK for the promotion, ASK what you can do to earn it, ASK how you can move up that ladder. And if you don't get the answer you want, move on until you find a company who will pay you what you're worth. If we all stand up for ourselves, corporate America will have to find someone else to fetch the coffee and work for 75% of our male counterpart's salaries.
Get updates on my book and more at the Skirt! Books MySpace page. (as if you need another reason to FINALLY get on MySpace!)
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Serious inquires only...
Wanted: One heterosexual male friend for friendship and activities that may or may not include: video games, movies, attending weddings, salsa dancing, kickboxing, short-to-medium phone conversations, discussions about why men behave the way they do, boyfriend recommendations and/or referrals, a couch to sleep on when I am unable to drive home, and road trips to Lands o' Kitsch (aka Giant Balls of Twine, Enchanted Forests, Dollywood, and any museum featuring Jackie O memorabilia). Must be able to read at a college level. Must always think I'm pretty in a totally non-sexual way, even when I am not wearing makeup. Must always find me fascinating and reciprocate by being fascinating. The unattached (or attached to non-jealous female) are preferred. Ownership of tuxedo a plus. Serious inquiries only.
Think I'm kidding? I'm not.
Think I'm kidding? I'm not.
Friday, March 02, 2007
I eat caution for breakfast…
A frie
nd recently told me that I should stop putting warning labels on myself. He said I enter new relationships with clauses, footnotes, and sidebars full of messages that all seem to say, “Enter at your own risk.”
This is what I do now:
I am not easy to get along with. I am not a morning person. I have a quick temper. I sometimes say spiteful things to people I really care about. I do not suffer fools gladly. Sometimes I feel like I’m held together with filament and wax and all it takes is hearing Verve Pipe song on the radio and I’m guilt stricken sobbing with my head on the floor. I end relationships for no reason. A lot of people think I’m a bitch. I don’t want to change. In short: If this doesn’t work, you can’t say you didn’t know what you’re getting into. Be afraid.
What I should say:
I laugh a lot. I am smart. I am kind. I am generous to a fault. None of my friends think I’m a bitch. I’m fun and I like to stay up late. I make up words and catch phrases. I am open to new things. I move on easily. I have a poor short-term memory, therefore I seldom hold grudges. I do not own a dishwasher because I like to sing while washing dishes. I am quick. I don’t cry a lot. I am financially independent. In short: I’m a catch.
It’s all in the way we think about ourselves, isn’t it?
nd recently told me that I should stop putting warning labels on myself. He said I enter new relationships with clauses, footnotes, and sidebars full of messages that all seem to say, “Enter at your own risk.”This is what I do now:
I am not easy to get along with. I am not a morning person. I have a quick temper. I sometimes say spiteful things to people I really care about. I do not suffer fools gladly. Sometimes I feel like I’m held together with filament and wax and all it takes is hearing Verve Pipe song on the radio and I’m guilt stricken sobbing with my head on the floor. I end relationships for no reason. A lot of people think I’m a bitch. I don’t want to change. In short: If this doesn’t work, you can’t say you didn’t know what you’re getting into. Be afraid.
What I should say:
I laugh a lot. I am smart. I am kind. I am generous to a fault. None of my friends think I’m a bitch. I’m fun and I like to stay up late. I make up words and catch phrases. I am open to new things. I move on easily. I have a poor short-term memory, therefore I seldom hold grudges. I do not own a dishwasher because I like to sing while washing dishes. I am quick. I don’t cry a lot. I am financially independent. In short: I’m a catch.
It’s all in the way we think about ourselves, isn’t it?
