4 August 2003
I did post the Angel Island pictures yesterday. In case you were wondering.
I also talked on the phone a good bit, to Michelle and to Kari. Also wrote a bunch more titles/ideas down and finished reading The Club Dumas. I could see why the writer would want to write the ending that way, but I didn't enjoy it particularly, and now I'm on the fence again about whether I'll be picking up another of Pérez-Reverte's novels. I liked the middle substantially more than the beginning or the end. The end was more conceptually than actually satisfying to me. Ah well. Started reading William Sleator's The Boy Who Reversed Himself. I keep saying there should be more children's SF and not just children's fantasy, but then William Sleator went and wrote a bunch of it and I haven't read it yet. So. I'm doing that.
I think I'm going to have a phone growing out my ear this week. My list includes so many people and businesses to call...uff da mai. Well, it'll match the keyboard growing out my fingers, I guess.
I was looking at my archives yesterday, and it looks like early/mid-August has been wedding season the last two years. There are so many other things going on that I'm glad we didn't try to make it back for Tony and Jenny's wedding, because that would have involved my head exploding. But I'm coming to the somewhat scary conclusion that I actually like weddings. I'm going to miss being at weddings where I get to see people this summer. Last summer it was Mark's relatives. Summer before, it was the Old Crowd. (And I'm really relieved to be moving home and really relieved to have two Crowd weddings solidly scheduled for next year, because I miss those people. En masse as well as individually.)
I was also writing The World Builders last year in August, and oh, gosh...it just looks like so much crazy fun. I can't dive into a project that much this month. I have way too many other things to take care of. It's funny how working that intensely can be its own kind of retreat from other things. I haven't really been the kind of writer who anticipates being able to run off to a retreat for weeks at a time -- it's just not my thing. I could see taking a research trip somewhere interesting, but just wandering off by myself to write...well, I don't need to, is what. I'm not in a circumstance where my home life urges me not to write. But a big project, done in a binge like that, is its own kind of escape. No wonder it looks appealing.
I got the tickets to go to Minneapolis, though. "Call realtor" isn't on my list until next week, but it might not hurt to give her a call know and let her know what we need and when, since it'll be a pretty intense time. She may also have suggestions to make, and that might be helpful. Hmm. Yeah, I think that's getting moved to this week's list. (Because what this week's list needs is more items on it! Woo!)
Today I need to go to the bank and the post orifice and the library and the grocery store and the pharmacy. I still feel like crud. I'm not looking forward to this. It feels like one of those days when small things become big things. I'm going to try not to let it be. Attitude and all that.
And maybe, amidst the items from the chore list and the stuff that needs finishing, I'll be able to use someone else's YA novel as an escape. Maybe even in line at the post office. Whether I can or not, I really, really can't throw myself at a project like I did The World Builders last year. I think that's going to have to be my mantra.
"It won't always be like this," is a good mantra, too. "This, too, shall pass." Also, "I can leave the library with only reserved books." That one will need several repetitions if it ever works at all. Maybe I'll just contemplate Zak's nifty golem. Yeah. The moss will make me happy.
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Or the last entry.
Or the next one.
Or even send me email.