Did a ton of gardening and house stuff this weekend, plus child-rearing, plus had a little party, and am about to keel over into my saltines. (I like 'em. Sue me.) Went for a run today and at one point had to sit on a bench and just be sad. I wasn't really all that sad, just tired. But it is easy to confuse the two. Also, due to kid timing and husband timing, said run happened in the midday sun and I hadn't eaten lunch. So I was especially cranky at all the fashionable, hungover people having brunch in my neighborhood while I trudged sweatily by. "It's take your ankle tattoo to brunch day," I thought, which is rude. I have nothing against ankle tattoos, or brunch. Tattoos are not for me, but brunch? Sure, I'll have some brunch. The sidewalk cafe patrons wear sunglasses because they are hungover, and their meals are reflected in the lenses. They'd share if I asked nicely and kept my trap shut about their ankle tattoos. On the trail, a guy running with his dog started running backwards as he approached me. What the what? And while I'm parsing all this out in my brain, a child riding a bike with training wheels passed me. She was pretty fast. But still.
Must rest up for tomorrow's WordLab at Indy Reads Books, 7 p.m. I'll be concocting a wordy experiment in this fantastic book store. There will be no sad bench sitting, no brunch, no jogging backwards at the sight of a woman about to be passed by a girl on a bike with training wheels. Just a short reading, some Q&A, and then we'll write and talk some more. Fun.
Theresa Beckhusen was nice enough to interview me about reading, writing, & more in advance of the event. I thoroughly enjoyed her questions, which included Trip Through Your Wires, la novela. The novel, in Spanish. It is in English with a smattering of Spanish thrown in. Ahem: carefully placed throughout.
Ya me voy a dormir. Besos a todos, mas o menos.
No comments:
Post a Comment