Summer
Ah, summer!
Because what could be more fun, after all, than filling out an author design form for one book (letting the press know what kinds of images, colors, and mood you prefer), editing another, receiving a blurb from a MAJOR BIG DEAL KILLER writer for a third (I wanna have his words tattooed on my face), and working on the draft of a fourth?
Just another Friday in summer. Ahhhh. When to be middle-aged was very heaven.
The Handsome Husband came home late one night this week, fairly drained and tired, as you might imagine, pobrecito, and then this morning, we were up at five a.m. to take Grey to the airport. He'll be flying until tomorrow night, because he's heading for the subtropical island of Okinawa for a three-month stint of working on an organic farm. (Did you know Okinawa is a full thousand miles south of Tokyo? I did not.)
Grey's a vegan (as you might have heard me moan on here before, though I'm now mostly committed, too), and he's very into his food politics. We raised him vegetarian, and the Handsome Husband was working in a health food store when we started dating, so I guess it was unavoidable.
But honestly, from an environmental perspective as well as an anti-cruelty one, I'm all for it: the two best things you can do, as an individual, for the fate of the planet and to help alleviate global warming are to eat a vegan diet and not reproduce. A special shout-out to my vegan and/or child-free friends!
I'll step down off my soapbox now to confide my fear that I'd suffer some massive mourning when Grey left, as I have before. (I have sobbed to the airport parking lady as I paid my way out of the lot. No joke.) The HH and I usually walk around like sad zombies for at least a day or two.
But no.
Gentle reader, Grey had not yet left the airspace of the Great Plains by the time we'd lugged all my stuff back into my study, which has been serving as his room these last six months. (Yes, I confess: the claims of art were routed by those of familia. What can I say? It happens. A room of one's own is the ideal.)
I vacuumed and burned copal and opened the window. The summer air blew in.
And reader, I've been cackling like a madwoman who just got her attic back.
Because what could be more fun, after all, than filling out an author design form for one book (letting the press know what kinds of images, colors, and mood you prefer), editing another, receiving a blurb from a MAJOR BIG DEAL KILLER writer for a third (I wanna have his words tattooed on my face), and working on the draft of a fourth?
Just another Friday in summer. Ahhhh. When to be middle-aged was very heaven.
The Handsome Husband came home late one night this week, fairly drained and tired, as you might imagine, pobrecito, and then this morning, we were up at five a.m. to take Grey to the airport. He'll be flying until tomorrow night, because he's heading for the subtropical island of Okinawa for a three-month stint of working on an organic farm. (Did you know Okinawa is a full thousand miles south of Tokyo? I did not.)
Grey's a vegan (as you might have heard me moan on here before, though I'm now mostly committed, too), and he's very into his food politics. We raised him vegetarian, and the Handsome Husband was working in a health food store when we started dating, so I guess it was unavoidable.
But honestly, from an environmental perspective as well as an anti-cruelty one, I'm all for it: the two best things you can do, as an individual, for the fate of the planet and to help alleviate global warming are to eat a vegan diet and not reproduce. A special shout-out to my vegan and/or child-free friends!
I'll step down off my soapbox now to confide my fear that I'd suffer some massive mourning when Grey left, as I have before. (I have sobbed to the airport parking lady as I paid my way out of the lot. No joke.) The HH and I usually walk around like sad zombies for at least a day or two.
But no.
Gentle reader, Grey had not yet left the airspace of the Great Plains by the time we'd lugged all my stuff back into my study, which has been serving as his room these last six months. (Yes, I confess: the claims of art were routed by those of familia. What can I say? It happens. A room of one's own is the ideal.)
I vacuumed and burned copal and opened the window. The summer air blew in.
And reader, I've been cackling like a madwoman who just got her attic back.
fayepoet said:
I love it...the just right timing. Enjoy your space as you wade in to your wonderful and diverse "projects." I can't wait to see what you've wrought (whoops, I mean wrote) Happy summer!
July 2, 2011 4:19 AM