October 17, 2009 – 8:53 pm
Spent the day having the most annoyingly low-key panic attack ever. I realize the low-key bit makes it sound relatively benign, but you try spending the day with your heart racing and what feels like a bowling ball on your chest and let me know how productive you are. Or don’t, since you’ll probably be all yeah, that panic attack was a piece of cake and cranky mama is just a big wuss and then I’ll be sad and feel like a loser. So keep it to yourself.
This all started because I lost my photo album. It’s probably been lost for a while, but I only realized it was lost today, when I tore apart the house looking for it. It’s like the best-of photo album, the one with all my favorite pictures of all time (I started it in high school and we all know how long ago that was). How is it that I still have things like my old keychain with the (admittedly very cool) X-Files keyring but not my photo album? Not So insists that it’s got to be here somewhere but I of course am convinced it’s gone forever and all is lost. That’s why they call it an anxiety disorder, folks.
In other news, I miss people.
October 16, 2009 – 10:51 pm
I’ve decided to end my streak of bitter misanthropy and actually get out and socialize every now and again. Luckily this coincided with one of my oldest and prettiest* friends moving to Portland, where it is much easier to convince her to while away one evening a week passing judgment on everyone who is not us. Well, and drinking beer. I guess I like beer now. This is weird, y’all – I’ve never liked beer, not even a little, and now here I go drinking it on purpose. More than once! And in quantities of two or more!
So, whatev, apparently my big midlife crisis involves an appreciation for hops. This is encouraging, if only because it means I can go out to a bar and not end up either a) bored, b) trashed or c) spending the next 24 hours puking my guts out and swearing off all forms of alcohol including cough syrup and vanilla extract. IN FACT, the last time I had a drink that was not a beer I got such righteous alcohol poisoning that I had to cancel my flight home the next day. And you know how many drinks I had? ONE AND A HALF.
I do not make these things up.
*Seriously, she still looks exactly like she did in high school, and in high school she was what one would objectively call a knockout. Of course this does not make me feel like an elderly bag lady, why do you ask?
October 14, 2009 – 9:18 am
For years I’ve been searching for the perfect red lipstick. Not too orange, not too fuchsia. You’d think this would involve a single trip to the makeup counters at Macy’s, but you’d be so, so wrong. I’ve been on the lookout for YEARS, people. Quests have been undertaken, and failed. I’d begun to think the perfect red was a mere legend, a story told to round-eyed children at the campfire. “And the princess’ lips were the ideal shade of red, with not a hint of fuchsia to be found.”
BUT THEN. I was perusing Sephora (as I am wont to do) and saw that DuWop has this new lipstick called “
Private Red,” which is supposed to magically turn into the perfect red for every person who puts it on. I’ll spare you the ballad of my skepticism and just skip ahead to the part where I say AND IT WORKS.
And they all lived happily ever after.
Kiss kiss.
(I’d just like to note that, much as I would love it if they did, neither Sephora, DuWop or the campfire-story industry contributed any products, gifts or suggestions to the author of this piece, who is fully capable of waxing lyrical about lipstick all on her own.)
September 12, 2009 – 8:03 pm
I trekked out to the Queenbee studio today & got the cutest bag known to man. Seriously, this bag is so cute I totally want to date it. It looks just like the picture only with teal flowers. Have I mentioned my love thing for teal? Because, yes.
In other news, we’re back from California, where it was unreasonably warm and also lots of fun and also also lots of work (since there is no rest for the small business owner), and I have bangs again. Bangs? you say. Didn’t you just finish growing out your bangs? To which I say Shut up, they’re cute. And yes.
September 3, 2009 – 2:00 pm
So. Don’t tell anybody but I seem to be re-working my manuscript. The first one. From 1998. There’s no good reason for this, except for the fact that there is clearly something wrong with me (and also I’m waiting to hear back from any of my several beta readers before I can do another draft of the latest novel). I mean, it’s not like I don’t have enough other stuff to keep me occupied, what with the business and the kid and the house and the cats and the husband. But, see, writers? Writers are crazy.
In other news, I think the new draft of the old novel is going to rock.
August 28, 2009 – 11:31 pm
Today I dropped off the paperwork for Ellison’s preschool. Paperwork, I’m telling you. It was somewhat unsurprising that I had to make an exhaustive list of the kid’s immunizations (which are thankfully up to date), but then there was this parental survey in which we were to wax lyrical about “things you appreciate about your child” and “what makes your child joyful?” Dude. When I was in school, no one gave a damn what made me joyful. (Hint: it was reading.) They just cared whether I showed up on time and sat quietly during class. This whole new-age preschool thing is nuts.
Even so, I can’t wait. Ellison is so excited he can barely stand it. I have a feeling preschool is one of the things that is going to fill my child with joy.
August 21, 2009 – 11:25 pm
I keep finding myself trying to describe what it feels like to get depressed. Which is ridiculous, if you think about it, because it’s not like I sit around trying to find the words to explain not being depressed – and, let’s face it, if you look at the averages that’s how I spend most of my life. But the Prozac (you knew I’d talk about the Prozac again eventually, didn’t you?) has been working, so there has been much less of the doom and gloom and somewhat more of the hey, look at that, things don’t suck entirely! which is a very nice change and I hope it stays that way.
But.
So I just snarfed a huge piece of really gross cake and I feel elephantine and miserable and I really want to sit in a quiet room where I have no projects (over)due and no one is demanding that I console them while they pee on me,* for christ’s sake, and maybe, just MAYBE, I can sleep for more than two hours at a stretch, please, yes?
*The kid is having a slight potty-training relapse. I mention this in case you were entertaining notions of a more adult nature, which, ew.
Spent the day having the most annoyingly low-key panic attack ever. I realize the low-key bit makes it sound relatively benign, but you try spending the day with your heart racing and what feels like a bowling ball on your chest and let me know how productive you are. Or don’t, since you’ll probably be all yeah, that panic attack was a piece of cake and cranky mama is just a big wuss and then I’ll be sad and feel like a loser. So keep it to yourself.
