Did you ever feel like life handed you an opportunity and then said, “Just kidding”? I half have a chance at taking a trip that would be ideal for me. A bucket list trip, actually. But then life calls and says, “Hey, but like… is this the time? And the cost…”
I’m negotiating. What’s the going price for kidneys these days? I have two. Who needs two? (Terrible joke, I know. And I did once volunteer to be tested to donate for someone who needed one, so maybe I get a pass on making a joke about something that is not really funny.)
Word Raccoon is offering to sell her treasure to fund the journey, but I’m thinking no one wants used earrings so much.
I’m dreaming, as always, today while trying to do pesky admin things, wondering why I don’t have an assistant for that, and also, why is today so gray?
I had committed earlier to going to the gym regardless of the weather, and did I want to? Absolutely not. I went anyway.
But gray days can brighten with writing and reading.
Right?
Right?
Yesterday I attended a webinar about newsletters, in part because it has been suggested that Word Raccoon should have her own. She used to, but kinda stopped. During the call, several Substacks were mentioned, (though the call was not just about Substack newsletters,) and I subscribed to so many that my inbox is now crying, Ma’am. Enough.
I do like the Substack app. I’ve been keeping an eye on it from early on, reading others’ newsletters and interacting with artists. It’s for more than creatives, but you can curate your list pretty tightly, which I love. It’s like having a chorus of creatives surrounding you every morning.
But I’m unlikely to ever abandon this blog, even if I start a newsletter elsewhere. It’s been my beacon to the world since 2012, I think. It’s my space capsule of optimism, like the Voyager Golden Record, saying, “I hope you can hear this. I hope that you are reading, or that you might someday.”
It’s afternoon now, and a load of laundry is drying. I have to mail the title of the now-scrap van to the recycling company. I am guest lecturing in a friend’s university class Monday, so I should prep for that, too.
It promises to be an afternoon of misc. before the real writing begins. WR is getting insistent about doing something fun. Or at least eating something.
Her first impulse was to grab a protein bar. I replenished the supply yesterday and now the freezer is choking on them. Word Raccoon grabs them when she’s too engrossed to be arsed with cooking or even thinking about food. Or when she wants a cookie but knows just cookies will cause her to swoon with weakness later.
I told her she doesn’t need so many, but she does not listen. Right now she’s gone from “oh, look, cooking is so cool and adventurous” to “Just feed me, okay?”
I don’t fight her. I respect the raccoon’s mood, knowing at some point she’ll be making prime rib again (rarely, get it?) or even a fancypants croquembouche. She loves a challenge, but seldom makes something twice once she’s conquered it, unless it’s an everyday recipe.
I’m already arguing with her about lunch. Lettuce, and cucumbers are lurking in the fridge, begging to be used. Grape tomatoes are on the counter, and hey, they’re beginning to be in season enough that they have taste! I even have some of her favorite salad mix-ins in the cabinet, but she is frowning and staring at the protein bars like she’s in love.
At the very least, she ought to do some reading today. I sat down to read with her yesterday and she yeeted two of the library books practically across the room, saying one was overly sentimental and the other too hard to define, and she wasn’t in the mood to play guess-the-genre.
We dumped them and a third one she refused to even open into the library drop box on our way to the gym.
Yeah, that’s what I’m dealing with over here. But secretly, I’m kinda excited, because when she gets in this mood, she gets real productive, real fast.
Ok, since I have now talked her into the salad (whew) and the gym, after the post office I’ll set her loose with a blank page.
Let’s go.
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