Apart from a quick trip (early morning, pre-coffee) to the garden to pick tomatoes, cucumbers, and zucchini (those unstoppable squashes) and some time spent sorting out Josie's re-arrangements and putting them where I think they belong, I've spent the day swimming in words--trying to finish up the last pages of content for the new website. Oh, and catching up on some overdue correspondence--emails, alas. I know how nice it is to get a handwritten letter--but my handwriting has deteriorated into illegibility. And I get impatient--the keyboard is so much quicker. These days the only actual letters I send are condolence notes. Sad, but true. Anyway, I'm on the home stretch, condensing and revising material from past classes into a very brief, fairly idiosyncratic, writer's guide. Stuff past students have found useful--basics like setting, characters, dialogue, and plot. Now I have to proofread. My head is swimming but tomorrow I have Josie and we'll blow bubbles and play with play dough and I'll be the voice for her many different stuffed animals. Two quick Josie stories from Monday: We were upstairs in my workroom and I was ironing some napkins (don't judge) while she was drawing at a desk that is now called her office. I finished my ironing and turned around in time to see her reaching for a permanent marker. She'd already liberated a goodly number of my pens and pencils, so I said she couldn't have that one. She glared at me. "Meema, turn around and do your ironing." In other news, she tells me she has a baby boy in her belly and his name is Margo.
Apart from a quick trip (early morning, pre-coffee) to the garden to pick tomatoes, cucumbers, and zucchini (those unstoppable squashes) and some time spent sorting out Josie's re-arrangements and putting them where I think they belong, I've spent the day swimming in words--trying to finish up the last pages of content for the new website. Oh, and catching up on some overdue correspondence--emails, alas. I know how nice it is to get a handwritten letter--but my handwriting has deteriorated into illegibility. And I get impatient--the keyboard is so much quicker. These days the only actual letters I send are condolence notes. Sad, but true. Anyway, I'm on the home stretch, condensing and revising material from past classes into a very brief, fairly idiosyncratic, writer's guide. Stuff past students have found useful--basics like setting, characters, dialogue, and plot. Now I have to proofread. My head is swimming but tomorrow I have Josie and we'll blow bubbles and play with play dough and I'll be the voice for her many different stuffed animals. Two quick Josie stories from Monday: We were upstairs in my workroom and I was ironing some napkins (don't judge) while she was drawing at a desk that is now called her office. I finished my ironing and turned around in time to see her reaching for a permanent marker. She'd already liberated a goodly number of my pens and pencils, so I said she couldn't have that one. She glared at me. "Meema, turn around and do your ironing." In other news, she tells me she has a baby boy in her belly and his name is Margo.