you make me happy when skies are gray

Run, do not walk, to your nearest theater to go see Little Miss Sunshine.

Here, here is the trailer.

DUDE(s). I loved that movie. I don't even have anything all that coherent to say about it, except that I really, really liked it. I've also never been in a movie theater -- or any kind of room, maybe, come to think of it -- that was so full of other people reacting to something in exactly the same way I was. There was clapping and shouting out loud and laughing and also laughing and crying at the same time. Kind of unreal. It just feels so much bigger than the some of its modest parts.

Everyone else likes it, too, and the Chicago Tribune got it just about perfect with, "It's difficult to convey the sheer joy of watching these characters interact." (Almost everyone else, I should say. Shut up with your "rickety vehicle that travels mostly downhill," second-rate Village Voice, what do you know, and stop being so in love with your own mediocre metaphor.)

OK, I have to go watch the trailer again.

the greens of summer

Hiking at Great Falls this morning made me feel all artistic-like. I was dawdling so much, taking pictures of leaves and bark and bugs and tiny worms, that J had call up to the friends ahead of us, "Hold on, we have to wait for Ansel Adams." Ha.


The Falls, they are Great. We were on the Virginia side; I'd only been on the Maryland side before.


This was on the lookout spot where we were standing... probably 30 feet higher and 20 feet back from where the water is now. Impossible to imagine the water that high.


Moss, rolling stone, etc. etc.


Note the accompanying image.


... makes you think all the world's a sunny day, oh yeah...

[obligatory lyric from the musical "hair"]

So, do any of you watch "Grey's Anatomy"? I just got the first DVD of the first season from Netflix, and I enjoyed it very much. I also enjoyed P*trick Dempsey, aka Dr. McDreamy. (Said dreaminess caused one of my roommates to exclaim "revenge of the nerds!" when recalling his character on "Can't Buy Me Love.")

Anyway, I think I just got a haircut that looks remarkably like his hair on that show, and... not sure it's a good thing. My hair is SHORT, circa 1996 levels of short, and feel like Dr. McDreamy without the dreamy. Or the doctor. Actually, looking at those two photos makes me realize the hair looks like the "Can't Buy Me Love" Dempsey, not the "Grey's Anatomy" Dempsey. I am skeptical:


See, that's me being skeptical. Also me looking like Mad-Eye Moody from the Harry Potter books, not sure what's up with that either.

just a bowl of cherries

Cherries at Larriland Farm, home of all the fruit picking I've been doing recently with Shannon and my very favorite Gaby, among others. (I really, really like my camera, by the way. A whole lot.)

I've also been doing a fair amount of cooking recently; something about it makes me feel grounded, like my life is organized and centered if I have time for it. Eating yogurt and toast for dinner still serves me well, but making brown rice curry salad and blueberry-lemon muffins and >gallo pinto and tart cherry pies (Exhibit A:


pretty, no?) has me feeling like things are a little more together than they probably actually are.

It's July in DC, suddenly stupid sweaty summer, and I am reminded that I hate this damn season here, and it makes me want to move somewhere less swampy.

I fell off the bike! But I got back on, and now my cool giant scratches are almost completely faded, even though I'm still wearing the big special band-aids over them.

I went to the dentist today and I have two cavities. So much for the goal of 365 days without tooth decay. Sigh.

J and I are going to Canada (blame Canada! blame Canada!) for a vacation in early August. Yay vacation. Let me know if you have any good New Brunswick Nova Scotia tips.

Speaking of vacation, I am ready for Alissa to come back from hers, because I miss emailing her. I had a really fun time in Lanky last weekend with these wonderful crazy old friends whom I adore. H and K came to our barbeque the other night. There are more fun visits and trips in the future. OK, maybe there are a few redeemable things about summer...

with thoughts of you i am aglow

You should go read/watch "Daniel Gr*ss eats a book. By Daniel Gr*ss." Ha!

So most of you probably know this by now, but after 28 bike-less years, I can finally (mostly) ride one! J's magic system, which I think basically consisted of just being really patient, has paid off. No one told me that it feels kind of awesome. Thanks to those of you who have also tried over the years -- I'm sure there was some cumulative effect happening, too.

Rejection letter count: lucky number 13. Moving on.

We had a very lovely Friday in Philly, walking on the Forbidden Road (Liss, that is what it was called, right?) and eating delicious pasteballs and seeing sweet G*rlyman with H and siblings. The rest of the weekend was fun and relaxing in that Lancaster-coma way. And now we're back to Monday, back to real life, nose to the grindstone, pedal to the metal, etc. etc. etc.

For the record, I am very much into this new bluegrass-y S*rah H*rmer album:

Well now how did they get that lady on TV
Laughing so naturally
For a Wal-Mart ad
Is it not as bad as I thought?

What else? Nothing else. You watched the book-eating thing, right? No? Go now, I'm serious.

green is all there is to be

Isn't there some line from a Muppet song about sitting on a lilypad? Totally slipping my mind.

Am off to sunny, lovely Detroit (the third time in nine months!) but will be back late Monday night, and I hereby vow to start cooking again when I return...

paperback writer

1. J.K. R*wling has a problem, and I thought the exact same thing as the Bookslut people... "Gee, it sure is hard to find... uh... piles of money lying on the ground around here! And, let's see, um, new iPods! And freshwater pearls, and bars of solid gold! Yeah!"

2. Eight rejection letters and counting. Can we make this into a drinking game somehow?

3. They had some kind of reception at my office last night, and this morning there were all of these large, live potted trees left over. Apparently they were rented, and a guy was taking them outside by himself, so the trees were lined up in front of the elevators in the morning. In the afternoon, when I went to leave, the elevator door opened and there was just a lone tree, standing there, no person in sight. (First thought: aah?; Second thought: cool; third thought: K's "tree"?)

4. May I recommend W*lla C*ther's "My Antonia." I picked it up at a used book sale it thinking it would be a good-for-me book, a classic I'd never read, and wound up loving it intensely. How could you not:

Nothing happened. I did not expect anything to happen. I was something that lay under the sun and felt it, like the pumpkins, and I did not want to be anything more. I was entirely happy. Perhaps we feel like that when we die and become a part of something entire, whether it is sun and air, or goodness and knowledge. At any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great. When it comes to one, it comes as naturally as sleep. (18)

ocean crossings, mountains to climb

I spent the weekend in the Garden State, first going to a wedding in Cherry Hill and then to visit J's friends in Princeton. My train came in at 10 last night and it was pouring; I thought I'd treat myself and take a cab, but when I went around to the front of the station, there was this Lord-of-the-Flies-style scenario unfolding. People -- about 300 wet, snarling, insane people -- were jostling for the cabs like their lives depended on it.

Didn't take long for the Metro to look very inviting, but at the end of my cheap and soothing little interval underground, I had to walk home in the downpour with my suitcase, which sadly did not contain an umbrella no matter how much I tried to will one to appear.

I chose a route home that would deliberately be up one of the more residential streets with a lot of trees to protect me from the rain (note to future self: that totally doesn't work). There was this man standing in one of the really pretty, careful gardens outside some of the row houses on the street. He was standing next to a gigantic rosebush taller than he was, with these lush bright pink blooms, and very carefully squeezing the water from the blossoms into a big plastic cup. He did it so gently and gingerly. It took my breath away.

I don't know why he was doing it, if it was because he wanted to use the rosewater somehow or if it's bad for rain to pool in the blossoms, but it made me think of this song, and of the ways people can be gentle with things and each other without knowing anyone else is paying attention.

a thousand words

OK, they may not be worth that much, but I've been taking a lot of pictures with my new digital camera. Things really do look different through the lens. LCD screen. Whatever.

More words forthcoming someday soon...

from Lidiosyncratic Idife

(That doesn't work as well as "Hiami Merald," does it...)

Hi, everyone. This is A, from Idiosyncratic Life. (Hallo!) Since a lot of my readers also read this blog, I just wanted to let you know why I recently took down a few posts. My company is implementing a policy that regulates its employees' "online presence." We are allowed to have blogs, as long as we get permission first. They cited recent examples of journalists getting dooced, etc.

So I took my trusty laptop into the Grand Poobah's office and showed him my humble little blog. He got a kick out it, actually, gave me his approval and placed a record of his permission in my file. Which is actually probably a good thing, mutual protection and all that. I will probably be extra careful about swapping words a la "Hiami Merald." I took down "Musing" because I didn't want the first thing Grand Poobah to read as he reviewed my blog was that I was occasionally called a "fat dyke" in high school graffiti. That entry is now back up.

Yes, my boss's boss's boss's boss now knows about Bella and her Monkey toy. I am, however, allowed to refer to myself as "Chunky Photojournalist Barbie," which he thought was hilarious. He also knows I own a deranged fluffy white cat that pees on the dog's toy box from time to time, but what can ya do?

So that's the update. Okay? Okay. Thanks for understanding and please keep reading!

long ago, somebody left with the cup

I have been systematically reading through the archives of mimi smartypants, who is one of those famous-for-the-Internet people (much like famous-for-DC people, I guess) that I can't believe I didn't discover earlier. She is awesome, and I am sure I am subconsciously going to mimic her style, so I might as well do it openly and use a list for starters.

1. Have I told you I have an aquarium at work? I do. It's awesome. It's directly in my line of vision, and I watch my little zebra danios swim around all day. One of them, the biggest one, has taken to guarding the front right corner of the bottom of the tank, where there just so happens to be a very tasteful plastic treasure chest. (My friend R. felt very strongly that all fishtanks should have treasure chests. So be it.) A greedy pirate fish? You decide.

2. I did finally send the letters referenced in the last post. Two rejections and one not-rejection which is really really not yet anything and probably will never be anything, so stay away, evil jinxing kinahurrah eye. Shh. Here, evil jinxing eye, read this part! LOOK OVER HERE: I got one "no new submissions" rejection and one "we like your 'clear prose' but not enough to take you on" rejection. Pay attention to those two instead.

3. I went back to yoga for the first time in almost four months today. We did goddess pose and moon salutes and yay, yoga.

4. J. and I are going to the Outer Banks this weekend for a mini-break, a la Bridget Jones. I have never been there before and am irrationally excited, but please don't let me come back with one of those OBX stickers for my car.

5. Conversation overheard at the gym (between two straight guys, I think, what are the odds?):

Guy 1: So then I said, dude, no way am I going to your house. And she was like, either you are or we're breaking up.

Guy 2: That's why you broke up?

Guy 1, defensive: Yeah! I mean, dude.

Guy 2: I mean, that was totally unreasonable, sure, but I wouldn't have broken up with her for that.

Guy 1: Come on! You would have broken up with her right after that zoo thing!

Guy 2, laughing: Yeah, I guess you're right.

What could "that zoo thing" possibly be? She wanted him to go to the zoo and she wouldn't? She refused to go to the zoo when he wanted to? Something extreme and crazy happened at the zoo that was so extreme and crazy it's self-explanatory to Guy 2?

it's hard out here for a wimp

Today is another foray into the Secret World of Daytime. I took the day off of work to further recover from California (a great time, but those redeye flights leave you a little raw) and get everything ready to send to the literary agents. I came to the coffeeshop so I could "focus" better than I do at home, realizing full well that they have wireless here, which makes "focus" very "funny."

So. Here we are.

You do realize that for my job, I write great swaths of text every day. Hundreds and hundreds of words; I just kind of stare at the screen and it happens. Ditto for the novel -- I had writer's block here and there, but it was mostly in the editing process. Quality is another story, but quantity has never been the problem.

I've now written, oh, 11 original words in the space of... three and a half hours. HOURS.

I've consumed two $3.50 decaf skim lattes (yes, I know how lame and "we met at the Starbucks diagonally across the street!" a coffee order that is, thank you), one $7 salad and four animal crackers. They have Nutella and strawberries on the menu here, and I may require an infusion.

I've made polite conversation with the woman sitting next to me, who is applying for a job at the World Bank. I proofread part of her resume for her! It's good.

I also examined her scarf to see if I could figure out its awesome knitting pattern. I couldn't.

I've written six or seven emails. I read an Oscars review and an article about D*na R**ve. I read the Project Runway page and am debating listening to the podcast now. I read blogs like it was my job.

Speaking of jobs, I would be fired from mine -- I would fire myself from mine -- if I worked this way. I'm averaging, what, less than four words an hour? And the thing is, this letter is already essentially done. I'm sort of trying to merge the creative and the straight versions, and put a beginning on it that doesn't make me sound like a leprous supplicant requesting an audience with the pope.

But what I'm really trying to do is put this off as long as possible, because it's scary. While I'm still working on the letter, I don't have to be actually sending the letter anywhere. This is the part I've been dreading, the one where the agents say no in a variety of painful ways -- through ignoring it completely despite your SASE, through stock postcards that suggest they never even open the envelope, through dismissive one-sentence letters of the "just not interested" variety, through one-paragraph letters that say your book is too boring/has been done before/could use a lot of work/isn't the kind of work they're looking for this year/isn't the kind of work they're looking for, ever.

(Did you know you're supposed to be happy about that last kind, because it at least shows they read it, and that means you're doing something right?)

Anyway. Everyone knows this is part of it, the part that you feel like you didn't really sign up for when you started writing a book. And that all good writers, the writers of the best and most famous books ever, get rejected over and over. Their rejection stories are like folklore.

So let's just do this, and enough with the whining. (I'm getting the Nutella...)

until someone gets an eye poked out

Inspired by the wonderful sister/friend weekend -- see photos! and go away, internet stalkers -- I made up a game involving the friends themselves. Match the fabulous woman to the situation in which you would most want her to be with you, and that best showcases her special special talent.

Disclaimer: I mean, ideally, all of the these friends would always be there with you in all of this situations. These are just the particular specialties of each one, because she would know exactly what to do.

And sorry: This game will only be fun for some of you. My apologies to the three people who read this who have never met the sister/friends.

1. I lost my wallet and my keys and my birth certificate and my passport and my mind and anything that connects me to this earth, and I have to be somewhere really important in 20 minutes.

2. (this one is true!) I bought all this butternut squash this weekend and I'm leaving for California in two days and I want to use it before it goes bad, but I don't want soup or baked squash and I can't think of what else to do with it.

3. I need to acquire several nearly defunct drugstores, and I need to look very professional and stunning and have very smooth skin while doing so.

4. I am having an insane emotional breakdown about absolutely nothing and need someone to simultaneously set me straight, sympathize with me, laugh hysterically with me and make me feel 1000 times better. Also, I found some children who need some educatin'.

5. I need to change the oil in my car, and I need all trees to be identified as such, because I have acquired a strange disorder that does not allow me to figure out the difference between a tree and a bag of gummy bears, for instance.

Go, match, win.

one two three FOUR five

Before the 5ives: I really respect this idea of the path of least resistance. It's funny how there's lingering guilt -- a cultural bias, as she says -- about taking the easy way out, or something like that, but something about her story about making the jewelry resonates with me so completely.

Now for the 5ives: They are so great. This one and this one and this one and this one and this one. That was five, right? Right. But there are lots more great ones, too.

icthyosaurs and tigers and bears, oh my

We had a blast at the Museum of Natural History yesterday -- saw some creepy things that used to swim, played with some magnifying glasses, shared a water ice in the cafeteria. Shannon has photos, go see. (And I really, really want a poster or something of that turtle to hang where I can look at it all the time.)

Shannon told this story too, but it really was funny when Gaby kept asking to see the "real things." Turns out she didn't mean living animals, but the room at the museum with the hands-on exhibits, the stuff she could actually experience and touch. Amen to that in a more general sense.

---

Also, speaking of Shannon and nice things, she is walking in another Avon 3-Day this year, and she needs cash. It's a huge challenge, and she's serious and dedicated. (Take it from someone who SAW the infected foot last year: Shannon is not joking around. :) )

So help her fundraise if you can. She deserves it.

waffle waffle waffle

Wise Angie on Crate & Barrel catalogs, the wedding industry, the market economy and the power of fantasy:

Ang: No one really wants a heart-shaped waffle-maker.

Me: Of course not, that would be incredibly tacky.

Ang: No, I mean they literally don't want a heart-shaped waffle-maker. They want a life where they get to use a heart-shaped waffle-maker to make heart-shaped waffles for the people they love. They want the illusion that they could have a life where a heart-shaped waffle-maker belongs.

we live out where the street ends

Overheard on the Metro on Friday night:

Man to his female seatmate, brandishing an old copy of Express, the Metro paper: Why do we care about this guy in Israel?

Woman: Who, you mean Ari*l Sh*ron?

Man: Yeah. I mean, Israel is crazy. We should all just let them blow themselves the fuck up. I don't see why we're all involved.

Woman: Because all the other people over there in the Eastern... East... you know, the East? (I think the word she was looking for was "Middle.") Anyway, over there, if we didn't do anything, they'll all kill each other off and then there will only be the Arabs left, and then, you know. Look at 9/11.


A little crude, maybe, but does that sound like a cogent summary of our government's general foreign policy to you? I will withhold judgment on that.

And while we're on politics, sort of, Slate's coverage of the Al*to hearings is so good and funny and on the mark. I love the reporter who does court stuff for them.

Nothing else doing, really, as my grandmother would say. I have friends visiting and am miserably failing at entertaining them because I'm still sick and grouchy. And also getting tired of sounding like a cross between a 12-year-old boy and a bad 900-number when I talk. Eight weeks of Yiddish classes start tonight -- soon I'll be able to sound simultaneously adolescent and trashy in the language of my ancestors...

there are no songs about memes...

... and that's not really a bad thing. But let's try one anyway.

1. What did you do in 2005 that you'd never done before?

Drove across the Midwest -- ate cheese in Wisconsin; saw Dayton, Ohio (twice!); got close to Iowa; bought pants in the Mall of America; wandered around southern Minnesota looking at things that had only been fictional in my mind. Entertained the thought of LIVING in the Midwest (probably not in my future). Finished writing a book, for the 6 millionth time. Kissed someone in a forest. (Sorry, barf. Will try not to make this barfy.) Did a headstand. Became obsessed with Netflix. Walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. Stayed in a hotel room alone.

2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I kind of kept them -- I was way better about exercise and yoga until about two months ago. And yes, I will make more, probably the same ones or similar, for next year.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

No, although a couple people who are semi-close to me did.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No, knockoneverywoodensurfaceeverywhere.

5. What countries did you visit?

Wow, I didn't leave the U.S. this year, unless you count Detroit. I'm going to England next summer to visit R., and Los Angeles in the spring to visit T., and New Hampshire over Presidents' Day with the sisterfriends.

6. What would you like to have in 2006 that you lacked in 2005?

More sleep, more self-discipline, a consistently working car.

7. What dates from 2005 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

My birthday and Oct. 20. I think I'll also remember Aug. 29, the day Katrina hit.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

I think I'm starting to trust people in a way I haven't before. I did a couple things I was really really scared of this year, and I think it let me be little bit less cynical and pessimistic and superstitious. My guard came down a bit in 2005. (Also, the whole book thing, maybe.)

9. What was your biggest failure?

Continuing to let anxiety make a lot of my decisions for me. Not learning to ride a bike, again. I also really really suck for not getting my knitted holiday gifts finished on time, but I'm still working on that.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

No, although this high blood pressure situation is not really to my liking.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

Well, the best thing I was given is definitely insulated curtains from my parents, which I always think aren't helping keep the cold out until I stick my hand between them and the window and feel how freezing it is. The best thing I bought was probably my first-ever pair of knee-high boots.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

The panda cub. And my friends, frankly. We kind of ruled 2005.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

We aren't going to talk about politics here, right? But you can guess.

14. Where did most of your money go?

If only I knew. To Amtrak, to car repairs, to various yarn stores, to my overpriced gym, to eating out way too much.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

The new book that's in my head, and the old book that's pretty much out of it. Harry Potter. H. and K.'s new house. Getting my own office, maybe soon.

16. What song will always remind you of 2005?

What is that song that's always on XPN about the "waaaaay up hiiiiigh" -- they play it, like, every day. That song. Also the White Stripes' "My Doorbell."

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

a) happier or sadder? happier
b) thinner or fatter? a bit thinner
c) richer or poorer? about the same

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?

Enjoying things without worrying.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?

Do you know I actually can't think of anything, unless I went back to the last question and put it in this category? Wow.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?

J. and I are going to the movies on Christmas Eve (which is also Chanukah Eve), and then I'm getting up early Sunday to drive to Lancaster to see the family and help my mom with the mammoth party they're throwing that night.

*(now is where I start editing because this is getting boring and repetitive)*

23. What was your favorite TV program?

Still Gilmore Girls (you guys, MADELINE ALBRIGHT was on the show. In Rory's DREAM SEQUENCE. Come ON, how much better does it get?). But after Netflixing the original British version of Coupling, that's a close second. It's hilarious and great.
25. What was the best book you read?

Hmm, just one... Primo Levi's "Periodic Table," and the Alice Munro short stories. And "Cat's Eye," but that doesn't count because I read it a bunch of times before.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Girlyman, Girlyman, oh Girlyman.

27. What did you want and get?

A good relationship.

28. What did you want and not get?

A digital camera. Still holding out a shred of hope for Chanukah, but I think it's not to be.

29. What was your favorite film of this year?

I saw way more movies this year than usual (thanks, Netflix!) but there isn't one single standout. Oh, maybe Good Night and Good Luck, which made me proud of journalism for a change. Dr. Strangelove was great. And I adored Bride and Prejudice, although I did not adore the person with whom I saw it.

30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

28, and I spent it with J at dinner and at the movies (at Good Night, come to think of it). A few days later, I had the most surprising surprise party in the world. This was a stunningly good birthday year.

31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

If I had gone a whole year with no cavities. I made six months, but still shooting for the full 365.

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2004?

Hahahaha, right. The trip to the Dayton Salvation Army Store with H. and K. helped things along, but it's still the same old.

33. What kept you sane?

Decaf coffee. And bloggers, actually -- I've found a bunch of new ones this year and sometimes their day-to-day routines bring such a welcome pattern to my own days.

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I have a little crush on what's his face from the BBC Pride and Prejudice series now -- Mark Darcy, but I forget his real name. Er... er... Bridget Jones has it too...

35. What political issue stirred you the most?

Will break the normal self-imposed silence: I got really, really into the Sc**ter L*bby thing, and the J*d*th M*ll*r matter in its entirety had me paying very close attention professionally. Personally, I was moved and saddened and horrified by the news from Darfur, and how little all of us really know about it.
37. Who was the best new person you met?

Oh, J.

38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2005.

Oy. How about a nice quote instead:

If the real world were a book, it would NEVER find a publisher. Overlong, detailed to the point of distraction -- and ultimately, without a major resolution. -- spoken by Hamlet in Jasper Fforde's Something Rotten, which I am currently reading

Also:

I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by. --Douglas Adams

39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

That's really hard... this doesn't sum up my year, and the main thrust of this song really has nothing to do with anything that happened to me this year. But um, yeah... it's probably my favorite song from an album that will make me think of this year? Or something? OK, whatever:

from "Postcards from Mexico":

When you slammed through my life
Like a screen door in a hurricane wind,
All I could think was how to find you again.
But Route 80 was snowed under,
And the roads to the canyon were closed.
For our safety, I suppose.

The sound of your voice is like longing feels
When you whispered my name in the dark.
And the thick yellow Brooklyn
Night sky through the window
Burned itself into me,
Deep as my history.

i'm a little hunk of tin

My own little hunk of tin -- not a Ford but a Honda -- had its first ever Great Big Adventure yesterday, when it decided it wanted to stop in the middle of Rock Creek Parkway. Just wanted to curl up in a little ball and go to sleep for a while, and stop going 40 miles an hour in the left lane in heavy traffic. And although I understand the feeling, it was slightly inconvenient.

Twenty-four hours and a new distributor later, it's found a new lease on life. The funny thing is that although I might has well have taken $500 and set it on fire just to watch it burn, I'm not even upset. That car has served me well since 1999, without a single complaint. It's earned a little downtime, right? $500 worth of downtime, oof, but still. Is it too much to ask for it to go another 100,000 miles without asking for another nap?

want to knit you a sweater, want to write you a love letter

So, I have a new theory on why this round of revisions on the book is killing me so slowly and softly with its song. Unbeknownst to me, I have turned into a tragic literary heroine and someone is drugging me with some kind of Snow White/Juliet/etc.-style sleeping potion. That's the only possible explanation, right?

I took a five-hour nap yesterday afternoon. Buoyed by the tiny boost -- "boost," because something that short-lived needs sarcasm quotes -- the sleeping marathon provided, I stayed out at a party semi-late last night and got up reasonably early to go to a knitting store with a friend. And now I just fell asleep for another two-hour stretch of my day. I just woke up. It's dark. Again, still.

Blame the weather, sure, but I have reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder, remember? I love winter. I love that it's so cold in my room right now that I can't feel my fingertips. Hypothetically I love that, anyway. I am the picture of lassitude; I have become Miss Piggy without the bonbons or karate chopping. I didn't even have the energy to go to yoga this afternoon -- how could I possibly scream "hi-ya" and throw poor Kermit across the room.

If anyone's absolutely dying to get me a Chanukah present and hasn't yet, this would be good. Or this. Or maybe just these.