I have to record a podcast about TWISTED today. This is a new thing for me. What should I include? Should I just read a couple of excerpts from the book? More? Do you listen to podcasts? Why? What do you want to hear? Where does the word podcast come from, anyway?
We have a new washing machine. It came with one hundred buttons, a graduate degree, and an attitude. I am intimidated. It took me a month to master the coffee pot. But I don’t have a month to develop a relationship with Mr. Whirlpool Fancy-Pants High-Efficiency Kiss-My-Buttons-and-Grovel Washing Machine. I have a lot of clothes that need to be washed because the plane leaves on Tuesday. I am tempted to go to the laundromat or beat the clothes against a rock in the river, but I’m afraid if I don’t confront the snooty appliance today, it will mock me every time I walk past it.
Don’t you hate it when machines sneer?
Georgetown won. North Carolina won. Ohio almost didn’t win and Pitt had a scare. Yesterday’s tournament was rocking with overtimes and close games. Gotta love it.
Check your pet food today!
Thanks to everyone for their kind comments about my mother, the rebel without a cause. She read through all your comments and loved them. Now she is telling everyone in town that she’s famous because she’s on the Internet. Yesterday she promised she wouldn’t die or get sick when I’m on the book tour. You are my witness.
Yesterday I found myself climbing Cascadilla Gorge in Ithaca with Stef (aka Daughter #1) and her godmother, Aunt Beth, who is my best friend from college. Beth and I have known each other for 25 years (gasp!). We met when I was a nervous, lost transfer student to Georgetown. She was the fun, energetic girl with the great voice whose dorm was next to mine. A friendship was born; one that has weathered every possible sadness and triumph.
Walk up the gorge = much huffing and puffing. Lunch at top of gorge = $21.83. Lifelong friendship =priceless
The gorge climbing might have been a wee bit too much activity, because I’ve been getting sick and yesterday it hit with a vengeance. The doc put me on antibiotics for an infection. I feel really weird. Kind of woozy and not fully attached to my body. Not sure if it’s the infection or the meds. Whatever it is, I wish it would stop RIGHT NOW.
Help me out. I need links to funny Internet sites.
Hit me, people. I will spend the day feeling woozy, watching World Cup soccer, and surfing your suggestions.
(I can’t figure out if I should be cheering for the Netherlands, because they wear orange so boldly, or Serbia-Montenegro, because I feel bad that the proud name of their nation is abbreviated to SMT on the television.)
(Isn’t woozy a great word? woozywoozywoozy)
Hazy. Hot. Humid.
I hate days like this.
This will be a short entry, because nobody wants to listen to me whine about the weather.
More X-Men 3 Mistakes I feel vindicated. Since movie theaters have air conditioning, I’m thinking I should head to one soon. Any suggestions about what I should watch?
I’m cranky already so I might as well go for broke. I am going to the gym.
Here – figure out how your household is impacting the environment.
I am gifted in a couple of ways. I can eat inhuman amounts of popcorn and still be hungry. I remember obscure words from languages no one has ever heard of. I excel at picking up sticks. And I can sleep. Man, oh man, can I sleep. If someone would pay me to sleep, my income would put Bill Gates to shame.
But not last night.
Can’t blame the hotel – it was quiet here. People are polite and go to bed at a decent hour in Goshen, IN. The Diet Coke at dinner? Maybe that had something to do with it, but BH has seen me put away a pot of coffee and be snoring an hour later. I never turned the TV on. I talked on the phone to various family members, but none of them had disturbing news. (Except for the ER trip for stitches earlier in the day – hope you feel OK this morning, Steven.) But I’m a veteran of ER trips. No, stitches don’t count.
My imagination was in overdrive. Every time I’d turn off the light, it kicked back into gear. I’d scribble down the ideas, look at the clock and decide, “Yes, now I will def. go to sleep.” Light out, head on pillow, and – bam! more ideas! Turn the light on. Scribble more. Over and over this happened, from 10 until sometime after 2 this morning. I look awful this morning. My eyes have enormous bags under them that look like water balloons. But I have half a legal pad of ideas, so I’m not complaining.
(No, I can’t tell you what it’s about. I don’t want to jinx this.)
Off to get coffee, then a trip to Goshen High School.
Sometimes I wonder…
Actually, I’m in PA again. The great part about this trip is that I am able to see two of my daughters while on the road. Hung out w/ Stef last week, have been bugging Mer and her friends all weekend. The weather was cruddy yesterday, so I dragged Mer to a fabric store. I have decided it is time to get a hobby for the first time in a very long time. We fondled the fabric and contemplated cloth. I fantasized about quilting. When we went back to her dorm, she – being a practical child – handed me her pants that were in need of repair.
Being away from home so much makes you random. Random thoughts:
Oh my goodness.
My computer is still in critical condition. In fact, they had to airlift it to a trauma center in Texas. The tech guy muttered something about a motherboard. My computer had a major stroke. Thank goodness I bought the warranty. If the surgery goes well and there are no complications from the anesthesia, I’ll have my baby back in my arms in two weeks.
Warranties = health insurance
Maybe I should buy a typewriter.
I want to write poetry about frustration for forty-eight hours. I want to be very, very quiet for a decade or so and let all of my words come out my fingertips. I want the perfect croissant and the perfect cup on black coffee on a street in Paris that smells like flowers. I want to go back to waking up at 3:30 am and going to bed at sunset. I want to talk to my grandparents, but they passed over long, long ago.
I wish I could be three years old for five minutes so I could have the mother of all temper tantrums on the floor of the hotel lobby.
A student at Agnes Irwin asked me which superpower I’d like to have. First thing out of my mouth? Being invisible. My inner introvert really is ready to melt down.
OK, randomness over.
Bensalem Middle Schools tomorrow, Newtown Friends School Tuesday…. driving home (no speeding ticket no speeding ticket no speeding ticket) Tuesday night. Driving to Rochester for three more days of not writing on Wednesday.
What super power do you want?