I just woke up. Eleven o’clock in the morning and I just woke up. I’m astonished. Ashamed. Naw, not ashamed. I’ve never been big on shame except when I’m dealing with the big D, and right now I’m ignoring it (depression, that is). It’s been demanding too much attention as it is.
So, I jumped out of bed when Richie woke me up and forgot to weigh myself, but I know it’s good. I’ve been excellent since the start of the new year. Oatmeal, salads for lunch (too big what I don’t care — they’re good for me and they’re yummy). Quinoa, the best butternut squash soup last night with just a trace of olive oil and nothing else evil (oh, maybe the croutons I put in it) and whole wheat anadama bread I’d just made.
Not movement yet, because I’ve been revising like mad and trying to figure out how to get down to NJ.
I am in the growing pains stage with my new editor. It’s sort of like making love with someone the first time — you have to be tentative, see what the other likes, how hard, how soft, where …
I’m hooting with laughter here. I haven’t made love with anyone new in 41 years. I really wouldn’t know. But John D. MacDonald in his fabulous Travis Magee books described Travis making love with his “broken birds” like that, and it made an indelible impression. Such is the power of evocative writing.
Fortunately my new editor is in England so I can’t go smack her upside the head, and actually I don’t want to. I like her fine — we just have to get used to each other’s style. Sometimes you never do — I had an editor recently who just didn’t “get” me. She still managed to teach me something after so many years.
Normally I don’t talk writing but this is just everyday, part of my day stuff, so I’m comfortable with that. I just want to avoid wailing about it (and trust me, it’s often worth wailing about).
Gotta figure out how to get to Crusie’s. I don’t want to stay down in NJ for five weeks (I’m going to be in NY for three weeks – going back and forth between NJ). I’m thinking just jump in the car and go down for three or four days next week, come back, get stuff together and then fly down. God, I miss being down there with Crusie!
Decisions, decisions. You know, I ought to drag out some of my exercise tapes. Yoga for Inflexible People (Jenny could use that =- heh heh heh), Richard Simmons Rocking to the Oldies while sitting down (or something like that) and Sit and Be Fit. I also have a Plus Size Yoga and a decrepit yoga. Maybe I’ll take them all down and Crusie and I will do one each morning.
I can belly dance. I took lessons from a professional when I lived in NYC, and killed my back dancing on the town green during the bicentennial celebration (how many people can say that?). So I’m wary of those ones, but if I’m careful I could try those to.
Oooooh, fun fun fun. Nothing but good times ahead.
So how are you guys doing with your plans for the week? I haven’t faced any real challenges yet but part of that is I’m back in the zone. I don’t want morning glory muffins or chips. Ah, but those fucking goldfish …