the week that was; my son is coming home; and the last chance to sign up for Teen Day!
Friday, March 9, 2012
Only lately (it feels like months ago) I was rambling on, on this very blog, about the importance I have given over to sleep. My desire to be healthier. My wish for less freighted, angsted days.
Well, there's only so much one can do when a flu takes over, and by Wednesday afternoon I was under the Mean Bug's spell. You know how it is—you can't breathe, you can't talk, and you can't go to Zumba. You can't even learn the jive kick with Jan. Strangely (a sure sign of grave illness) you don't want chocolate. (What? No chocolate?, all right, all right, I'll have a piece of chocolate.) You just sit, and as you sit, things pile up.
Creakily, barely, things still got done—a 1,000-word review of a complex book, the final touches to an annual report, the glassy-eyed acknowledgment of three of the Project Runways All Stars editions I'd lately missed (that was high on the list; go Mondo), correspondence with my memoir-writing students, and all the behind-the-scenes-work that goes on as we prepare for Teen Day in Manayunk. It looks like we'll have quite a crowd of young writers and readers on hand that March 24th at The Spiral Bookcase, and we're getting excited. Please do get in touch with me or the store if you are interested in this chance to meet great YA writers and to show us, too, what your own words are made of.
(And to get published!!)
But in the meantime, I have not prepared for the most important thing—the arrival home, late tonight, of our dear son. He'll spend the weekend with us before heading out to Vegas with friends. I want to be my whole self for the few hours we'll have together.
Time for a little Zen.
Well, there's only so much one can do when a flu takes over, and by Wednesday afternoon I was under the Mean Bug's spell. You know how it is—you can't breathe, you can't talk, and you can't go to Zumba. You can't even learn the jive kick with Jan. Strangely (a sure sign of grave illness) you don't want chocolate. (What? No chocolate?, all right, all right, I'll have a piece of chocolate.) You just sit, and as you sit, things pile up.
Creakily, barely, things still got done—a 1,000-word review of a complex book, the final touches to an annual report, the glassy-eyed acknowledgment of three of the Project Runways All Stars editions I'd lately missed (that was high on the list; go Mondo), correspondence with my memoir-writing students, and all the behind-the-scenes-work that goes on as we prepare for Teen Day in Manayunk. It looks like we'll have quite a crowd of young writers and readers on hand that March 24th at The Spiral Bookcase, and we're getting excited. Please do get in touch with me or the store if you are interested in this chance to meet great YA writers and to show us, too, what your own words are made of.
(And to get published!!)
But in the meantime, I have not prepared for the most important thing—the arrival home, late tonight, of our dear son. He'll spend the weekend with us before heading out to Vegas with friends. I want to be my whole self for the few hours we'll have together.
Time for a little Zen.
2 comments:
Oh, yes, you want to be completely invested in THESE PRECIOUS MOMENTS with Your Son!!! Lay everything else in your brain aside, for just a little while, Beth.
Enjoy your time with him.
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