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Okay, what's going on out there in the universe? Why is everyone trying to give me work to do?
I just heard from the Loft and my winter session class is a go, with eleven students signed up. Normally, I'd be at least nominally excited about the prospect of steady income, but I have to admit the timing could not be worse -- what with the potential travel to Indiana still looming. I start on Tuesday, Jan. 29 at 7:30 pm. (I write it here to help myself remember.)
Then another Loft contact has a paying critiquing gig she wanted to pass on to me -- which is cool and all, but not something I can do with two major writing projects potentially going this year.
What else? Oh, RWA got back to me on my signing date for the March Public Library Association Trade Show. (March 27, 10:00 am).
All of this conspires to make me feel overwhelmingly busy, even though nothing is happening right now, you know?
In other news, I managed to work out both Tuesday and Thursday so I'm feeling remarkably buff. You should see my arms, brothers and sisters. I'm tellin' ya: Captain America would be jealous. I started bringing a knock-off/cheapie .mp3 player, and, you know, music makes the whole thing that much more tolerable. Plus, in a moment of extreme silliness, I've decided to try this crazy diet that I read about in WOMEN'S HEALTH MAGAZINE (which Shawn started subscribing to after getting a free issue that hooked us), wherein I'm to eat a half grapefruit before every meal. This is supposed to help me shed pounds faster, partly, I suspect because I find grapefruit so dreadful that I'll have a negative reaction to the entire eating experience. Not sure. But, what the heck, right? Plus, Shawn loves grapefruit so it's fun to have some fruit in the house she will actually consume.
Grandpa Rounds has been moved to a "recovery facility" and is settled in until his scheduled surgery in twelve days. The description of the place sounds a bit like hell (no phone in his room, a view of an industrial/busy street, and a roommate who is deaf and has the TV up loud and on all the time), but apparently he's in good spirits and all that. We've decided that the way to feel involved in his recovery is to send him a card or something every day. Shawn is putting together a care package that includes books on tape (along with said tape recorder and headphones), magazines, thriller novels, CDs of big band and other favorites of his, and a photograph from the last time we were all together for him to keep at his bedside. Shawn's brother talked Grandma Rounds in to running to Target and buying a cheapie cell phone, and she did that so now he's not completely cut off from the family (although I guess they haven't figured out how to change the ring tone off vibrate yet.) Hopefully, these little things will actually help him get better. I know if it were me, I'd be deeply depressed in a place like that. Although I guess the point is that there are not only on-call nurses and such, but also there's on-staff physical therapists, which Shawn's dad really does need.
I tell you, though, this whole thing has been keeping me going to the gym. I keep thinking about all the articles I've read that say that if you continue excercising into your sixties and beyond, you can really improve longevity and overall health. Granted, it couldn't have helped stop cancer, but, well.... It certainly does improve my mood. I have a lot more energy during the day.
Well, I can't ignore writing any longer. Must go work.
I just heard from the Loft and my winter session class is a go, with eleven students signed up. Normally, I'd be at least nominally excited about the prospect of steady income, but I have to admit the timing could not be worse -- what with the potential travel to Indiana still looming. I start on Tuesday, Jan. 29 at 7:30 pm. (I write it here to help myself remember.)
Then another Loft contact has a paying critiquing gig she wanted to pass on to me -- which is cool and all, but not something I can do with two major writing projects potentially going this year.
What else? Oh, RWA got back to me on my signing date for the March Public Library Association Trade Show. (March 27, 10:00 am).
All of this conspires to make me feel overwhelmingly busy, even though nothing is happening right now, you know?
In other news, I managed to work out both Tuesday and Thursday so I'm feeling remarkably buff. You should see my arms, brothers and sisters. I'm tellin' ya: Captain America would be jealous. I started bringing a knock-off/cheapie .mp3 player, and, you know, music makes the whole thing that much more tolerable. Plus, in a moment of extreme silliness, I've decided to try this crazy diet that I read about in WOMEN'S HEALTH MAGAZINE (which Shawn started subscribing to after getting a free issue that hooked us), wherein I'm to eat a half grapefruit before every meal. This is supposed to help me shed pounds faster, partly, I suspect because I find grapefruit so dreadful that I'll have a negative reaction to the entire eating experience. Not sure. But, what the heck, right? Plus, Shawn loves grapefruit so it's fun to have some fruit in the house she will actually consume.
Grandpa Rounds has been moved to a "recovery facility" and is settled in until his scheduled surgery in twelve days. The description of the place sounds a bit like hell (no phone in his room, a view of an industrial/busy street, and a roommate who is deaf and has the TV up loud and on all the time), but apparently he's in good spirits and all that. We've decided that the way to feel involved in his recovery is to send him a card or something every day. Shawn is putting together a care package that includes books on tape (along with said tape recorder and headphones), magazines, thriller novels, CDs of big band and other favorites of his, and a photograph from the last time we were all together for him to keep at his bedside. Shawn's brother talked Grandma Rounds in to running to Target and buying a cheapie cell phone, and she did that so now he's not completely cut off from the family (although I guess they haven't figured out how to change the ring tone off vibrate yet.) Hopefully, these little things will actually help him get better. I know if it were me, I'd be deeply depressed in a place like that. Although I guess the point is that there are not only on-call nurses and such, but also there's on-staff physical therapists, which Shawn's dad really does need.
I tell you, though, this whole thing has been keeping me going to the gym. I keep thinking about all the articles I've read that say that if you continue excercising into your sixties and beyond, you can really improve longevity and overall health. Granted, it couldn't have helped stop cancer, but, well.... It certainly does improve my mood. I have a lot more energy during the day.
Well, I can't ignore writing any longer. Must go work.