Nom de Plume

Mother’s in Julian fighting to get the house built. Steve’s downtown fighting to get the condos built. As for me, I’m happily sitting in Starbucks with the coffee jitters and an internet connection. (What more could a woman want?) Yesterday was gorgeous and warm, but thank heavens we’re back to our cold gray gloom. Much more satisfactory, especially since I simply HAD to finish Dodie Smith’s “I Capture the Castle,” which I pulled off the library shelf yesterday. It was so much better than the movie.

Talk about a small world. So here I am, sitting in Starbucks and shamelessly eavesdropping on a conversation at the other end of my table. Guy’s looking for a writer. I introduce myself, we exchange cards, and before you know it, he’s looking at my web site, sees I worked at Publicis–and tells me he was one of the original founders of Floathe Johnson, which then was taken over by The Evans Group, and then by Publicis. Yikes.

And yesterday, I met a woman whose mother is in the Foreign Service, and who was also USIA (before it was subsumed by state)–and it turns out that my mother knows hers.

All this synchronicity makes me feel I’m on the right track and in the right place.

We may not wear bhurkas, but the rights of American women continue to erode.

I love the news today.

Bush’s information withholding tactics go public not once, but twice, and it’s finally acknowledged that “no atheist can get elected to office.” (Not, of course, that anyone in office will buy the fact that the humans became humans because of a mutated muscle.)

I am awash in rejection slips. Steve has started posting them on the fridge, where they stare at me balefully as I cook dinner.

All lovers of GW, put this in your sniper and shoot it. From scare tactics to censorship, it begs the question of what this country is coming to. A presidential election, that’s what. Let’s get him out of office.

Here’s something that made me scratch my head in sheer wonder.

I’m excited about the trashy novel again.

Got a book from the library called One Continuous Mistake: Four Noble Truths for Writers, by Gail Sher–and I would recommend it to anyone who struggles with the love/hate relationship with writing as I do.

She applies to principles of Zen to writing, and many of her observations made me want to jump up and shout, “AHA!” One of these was the statement that writers don’t feel complete when they’re not writing regularly–and there are lots of reasons why they don’t. Approach a daily writing period as a meditation; when you start, clear your mind and when you finish, offer it up. Release it into the universe.

Awwww

I just spent pretty much the entire day fighting with my web site. Still have samples to get up–by far the hardest part because I don’t HAVE a lot of them. I mean I have the samples, I just don’t have them in a digitized form.

ARGH. My engine’s revving really high again. I’m terrified I need a new carburetor. The last time this happened, Hurless Brothers walked me through checking stuff–and it went back to normal through the wiggling process. I’m going to do that again and hope it works.

And of course it has to happen when I have an interview on Monday.

This is the kind of literalism that drives me crazy: The Boston Archdiocese has instructed Catholics attending Opening Day at Fenway Park not to eat meat because it’s Friday. (For a link to the article, click here.)

Eating fish on Friday is not, contrary to popular belief, a tradition that dates back to Christ. Back in the day, the Thames was a rich source of fish. At the same time, cattle and sheep began to be cultivated in large numbers. The result was that beef and mutton were in demand, and fish (as is the case with most plentiful things) was considered “poor people’s food.” The Church intervened, in order to help out the fishermen, and dictated that Catholics should only eat fish on Fridays.

Economics, pure and simple.

Anyway.

Interview with an agency on Monday. Also got a letter from the other place saying thy were reviewing applicants and would get back to me next week informing me of their decision.

Steve met with a realtor, and she’s been e-mailing him houses in our price range. So he’s not about to kill himself over the thought of living in a slum. It’s all coming together. Speaking of Steve, I never mentioned that his job site was hijacked by an environmental group. Full details (and a partial shot of Steve’s shoulder and head on the right) can be found here.

Also finally did my biz cards, and am very pleased with the results. Used an image of an antique fountain pen, which I found online (defunct pen company). Lee Sherry from Ad Attic (in Puyallup!) was kind enough to rescan for me.

Other than that, it’s another gray, rainy day–which I seem to prefer. It makes me want to snuggle inside and write.

So I will.