13 April 2004
The cramps are almost gone. The house is half clean, or approximately that. I'm feeling much less exhausted and huddly than yesterday, and I think I don't have an aversion to humanity any more. I hope I don't; Ed and Jen and Elena get in at 4:20, and I don't want to make scowly "I'm sorry you're people" faces at them at the airport. Babies don't tend to coo at those faces. This will be the first we've seen of Elena Grace outside photos. I'm excited.
Yesterday I did not accomplish a heck of a lot. I needed recharge time. I wrote the overly long con report, I read some of The Proof House, I wrote to Lizard, I made chili and cornbread, I talked to my dad. I recharged. I needed to. I picked at the Not The Moose and at "Even Without Deceit," but that was about it.
Crap. Just now I gashed my leg but good on Timprov's desk drawer, and it was my own fault because I was the one who left it open. Now naturally it's supposed to be 70 tomorrow, the better to show off my klutziness.
In case any of you don't know me in person, I really hope you're not imagining someone graceful. Really, really, I hope. Because while I've managed to progress past my fifth grade nadir, when I sprained my ankle attempting to walk backwards, and while I now will dance in public, I also do things like this fairly regularly. Honestly, I run into doorframes and bump my hip on cabinets and generally make a mess of things. Not a graceful person. And it's not consistent. I can do an entire yoga routine, up to 90 minutes of yoga, and not fall on my head or find myself unable to dislodge my foot from my armpit or anything like that. Then I will get up and walk into the kitchen and bump into the trash can.
I always blame the year I was ten (for those of you who haven't heard me say it: I grew six inches in six months and hit puberty like a freight train, so there was all kinds of me there didn't used to be), but I don't recall being notoriously coordinated before that. Certainly no one tells stories of what a graceful and lovely child I was.
And speaking of ungraceful adolescents -- I saw a bit on the "Wrinkle in Time" movie, and it appears that Meg wasn't wearing glasses. Huh? I'm about to start my motorboat impression: but but but but -- nooooo! (Does this mean I won't watch it? Obviously not. But does it mean I am prepared to fume? Oh yes. Like a gas leak.)
So. The Proof House is good stuff and holding my attention all right, but I feel the need for a story that gets where it's going fairly quickly right now. I have periodicals to choose from -- in addition to F&SF and Analog, we have LCRW because it has Karina and Hannah and Philip and Sarah and all sorts of good peoples in it. Although I'm not sure LCRW is the sort of mag with stories that get where they're going quite so directly, and F&SF sometimes isn't, and Analog is but these days I often don't want to go where they want to go...well. I've got enough stuff on the book piles that it ought to work out one way or another, whether it means I pick up a children's book or what. If I even have time to read with the rest of the list: the problem with recharging yesterday is that much of the charge is needed for today. Ah well; life is like that. We'll get Ed and Jen and Elena, and then the Crowd will come for Ethiopian food, and it'll be good. And if Porthos gets more dirt before then, all for the best, and if not, he'll survive another day. And so will we all, I expect.
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