Tuesday, March 11, 2008
This was me at 5:08 this morning when Mom called.
Usually I call her while I commute to work on Tuesdays and Thursdays starting around 4:30 a.m. It should be safe for her to call and leave a message on my cell phone, which I would leave off if I were staying home sick or otherwise sleeping in. But I forgot to shut it off when I turned in at Braveheart's house last night.
While she was off gallivanting around the state of Oaxaca, Mexico for two months, my writing group meetings changed from Tuesday nights to Monday nights. I forgot to tell her I'd be calling later.
Surprises continued this morning when, after showering, I toweled off and was wiping down the inside of the stall. All's well until I knocked the handle with my hand and sprayed myself in the forehead with a blast of water.
I couldn't stop giggling. It's nice when one has this spontaneous response rather than anger, but I think it was compounded by the fact that I was trying to get out of the house without waking up Braveheart and the Doc.
No one yelled at me to shut up. Maybe I made it!
Oh, and. Before I forget....
In the spirit of full disclosure--not wishing to follow in the heavy footsteps of Margaret Seltzer or other faux memorists--this is not actually me.
This is a stand in. I noticed her nestled in a pot of Jade plant on Braveheart's front porch as I snuck out this morning.
Whew. I feel so much better for having admitted that.
I'm not going to engage in a whole rant here about how aggravated it makes me that writers who could be good novelists have trashed their careers because they and so much of the reading public seem to think that memoir is somehow more valid than literary fiction.
It's going to be a big work week. Lots of scripts coming in at once. And I'm going to take off Friday, so it's all compressed into four days.
Still, it's nice to be back and I do like my work. Friday ended with telephone calls and e-mails about some kind of complex clearance issues and I really felt that I was using my writing, thinking and communications skills for my job. That's a good thing.
For some reason, I was terribly interested in the street life on my drive over to Braveheart's for our writing group. This traffic cop was working the intersection of Highland and Sunset. It's an amazing thing that she's doing. Made me feel very civilized to stop on a green at her command. I'm such a pack animal sometimes.
Just some people crossing the street. I don't think it would be an interesting image without the guy on the far crosswalk. Maybe it's still not...?
Followed this urban cowboy all the way down to La Brea, where he headed off into the sunset.
It was a great day to drive along with the window down.
Meanwhile, how is it I never knew about Resistance fighter Pearl Cornioley, who recently passed away at 93. Here's her obituary in the L.A. Times.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
See the pretty sunset on Hydra's finger?
He became all ambitious this morning and trimmed an arbor vitae (shrub/tree) next to the shed. It's so much nicer...makes the shed look like a cute little house.
Then he started cleaning out the shed itself. This is when I got into the act.
We were pulling things out from where bags of potting soil had been lined up when he reached for the sprung rat trap and OUUUUUCH! It wasn't sprung!
Luckily, he had on gloves and was able to slide his finger out of the trap's bite--it's a black plastic monster--but he ended up with a sore fretting finger. (That's a finger that moves on the fret of the guitar, not a worried finger.)
Always one to try to find the bright side, I reminded Hydra that if he has to have a sore finger, at least he got a bruise in the bargain.
It's so frustrating when it hurts and you don't even get a bruise to show off!