I complain a lot. This is not one of my more redeeming qualities. I don't know why that is -- I am a grateful girl, glad for the lovely things and wonderful people in my life. But I'm also a high-strung individual who works a lot, who is always looking for new work and new ways to keep busy. I live in an expensive city secondary to Husband's career choice, so work is very necessary. Good thing I'm not great with sitting still.
But I sometimes feel like a factory child of the Industrial Revolution (she says from her padded chair in her heated house with access to a coffee pot and an almost-fresh package of American Oreos) who is only allowed to Work and never allowed to Fun. So imagine my great glee when my darling friend Jane said, "Hey. Come out to the cabin this weekend sans enfants and let's chill and watch our favorite movies and eat fun foods and pretend they're calorie-free." Don't quote me. It sounded something like that.
GUESS WHAT I DID? I left my house. For real. And it didn't involve a trip to a child's school, a doctor's office, or the bookstore. I did not stop for tampons or toilet paper; I did not go to the soccer field or piano school. I went instead to Cultus Lake, British Columbia, a scant 70-minute drive from my suburb, where I was given my own room in a beautiful lakefront cabin. For 25 hours, I was quiet.
It was so nice.
See?
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| That's me, with my camera. I use it sometimes. |
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| Cultus Lake, very still. Earlier that morning, it was shrouded in fog. Then the sun came out. No polar vortex in British Columbia. |
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| Quiet winter docks, missing their jubilant summer friends. |
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| The willow in Jane's yard, waiting for the sun to stay long enough so spindly arms can yawn and stretch skyward. |
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| Going home, we stopped at the lake's eastern side for a quick snap of the setting sun. |
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| Goodbye, sun. Thanks for a lovely day. |
When I wasn't being quiet, we watched this (OF COURSE WE DID):
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| Jane hadn't seen it. I felt that was a wrong begging for rectification. She enjoyed it, as I knew she would. |
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| Because, well, vitamin Henry. #needIsaymore (See here for more justification.) |
The point of this exercise, however, was more than a desperately needed mental health break. It was so I could spend uninterrupted, child-free time with my latest editorial letter. Yes, Sleight, the Little Book That Could, is still having her feathers rearranged. Every time, it stings a bit, but once the sting abates (usually after slathering my internal organs with copious amounts of sugar and caffeine), I LEARN SO MUCH. I don't know what I did right in this lifetime to deserve the editors I'm working with, but yeah ... it's pretty damn awesome. Lots of arguments slap back and forth across the Internet about traditional vs. self-publishing, and while I can happily call myself a hybrid (Jenn Sommersby + Eliza Gordon), I will forever be grateful for the experience traditional publishing has granted me. Every time this manuscript returns covered in Band-Aids, I rip off one at a time, and the skin underneath is so much prettier.
In other words, it's f**king rad what they do. HOW DID I GET SO LUCKY?
Thanks, Hadley, for believing in me.
And thank you, Jane, so much, for sharing your cabin with me. When can we go again? I have this book that needs another coat of paint here soon ...
Thanks, Hadley, for believing in me.
And thank you, Jane, so much, for sharing your cabin with me. When can we go again? I have this book that needs another coat of paint here soon ...
IN OTHER NEWS:
If we're not Facebook friends, you're missing out on the fun stuff I've come across. Such as:
Game of Thrones Bad Lip Reading
And the Jaguar Superbowl Ad with MARK STRONG et al:
And who doesn't love some MALEFICENT:
And then I rewrote the opening to Romeo and Juliet when my youngest and I decided en route to the elementary school that the drivers of the two daycare buses should have a death match for parking in our very congested school turnaround:
Two daycare buses, both alike in color,
In fair Coquitlam, where we lay our scene,
From months-long grudge break to new pissing match,
Where driver’s fists makes the other driver’s nose weep red.
From forth the yellow tube emerge these two foes
Fighting for prime parking among the strife;
Whose inability to park straight leads to raised voices
Do with warring chants screamed from car windows.
The fearful passage of their tiny charges running in fear,
And the aggravation of many parents' rage,
Which, but their children's safe entry into classrooms,
Is now the two hours' traffic of this congested street;
If only the principal would give an arse about our choler,
What here shall go unscreamed, our horns shall strive to mend.
We learned about the skincare for Throwback Thursday:
And I failed in the kitchen. Again. Like I said, WORK.
Coming soon ~ My rave review of Kenneth Oppel's upcoming THE BOUNDLESS, on sale April 21, 2014:
The Boundless, the greatest train ever built, is on its maiden voyage across the country, and first-class passenger Will Everett is about to embark on the adventure of his life!
When Will ends up in possession of the key to a train car containing priceless treasures, he becomes the target of sinister figures from his past.
In order to survive, Will must join a traveling circus, enlisting the aid of Mr. Dorian, the ringmaster and leader of the troupe, and Maren, a girl his age who is an expert escape artist. With villains fast on their heels, can Will and Maren reach Will's father and save The Boundless before someone winds up dead?
Mr. Oppel and I share the same editor at HCC (I can't believe I get to say that ... is this real life?), and I ADORED this book.
*****
Off I must. Words need making.
Bonne nuit!
(And speaking of Nuit ...)
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| She won't catch her mouse, but she will catch a BLT. #truth |
