No Sense of Direction

I could get lost in my own backyard. It's a cliche, but true. I not only have no sense of direction, I have a negative pull when it comes to figuring out where the heck I am. Tonight, for example, I got lost driving to a SCBWI (Society of Children Book Writers & Editors) Schmooze session in Winston-Salem. The chaos began when I thought I knew exactly where I was going.  That should have been my first clue something was amiss.

We were meeting at a Borders. When I visualized the location, I thought it was in a shopping center I knew. So I drove to the Center and guess what? No Borders. I drove a little further in the hopes of accidentally bumping into the shopping center. This is a tactic I often employ but it didn't pan out so I turned around.

By this time I thought I remembered the Borders being near the interstate and that I might know how to get there. But, to be safe, I stopped at an Exxon station and asked for directions. "Just pull left out of here," said the cashier motioning. "Then left on Knollwood and that will take you right there."

Simple. But when I went to pull out of the station, I was confused. Did she mean go left on the little side road the station was on or left on the big road I had pulled off of to get to the station? I decided the big road was the safer bet. And--here's the surprising part--I was wrong.

So I drive a couple miles and pull up to a cop at a stoplight. I motion him to roll down his window. "I'm trying to get to Borders," I say.

"Turn around and go back," he said. "Take the Stratford road exit on the left (emphasis mine). You'll come right to it."

Fine. I turn around, pass a Stratford Road exit on the right only to find there is no left exit to Stratford. Grrrrr.  So I hop on 40 W and just hope for the best as I dial Blair. He answers. "I'm lost," I announce.

"Where are you?"

"Coming up on Jonestown Rd."

"You're going the wrong way. Turn around and take the Stratford Road exit."

So I finally get to my meeting. But this is my life. People make fun of me for leaving for the airport 3 hours early or  allowing 1 hour for a 15 minute drive, but this is the perfect example of why that extra time is a necessity in my life.

My friend Heather has gone so far to accuse me of sucking the directional sense out people. Heather never gets lost unless I'm in the car with her. She may have a point. When I was in Portland my editor drove me to a PetSmart that she pretty much knew the way too but wasn't worried b/c she had a great sense of direction. We drove around for 20 minutes trying to find the place.

"It's me," I told her when she apologized. "This is my fault." 

I'm thinking when we leave for Europe I need to have no contact with the pilots whatsoever. If I even just say hello, we may end up in Japan. 

Why I Don't Cook

Here is a perfect example of why I habitually avoid any and all activities associated with that area of the home known as "the kitchen."

Blair and I decided some time ago we would make red beans and rice. We purchased the ingredients and then promptly ignored them for the next three weeks. But he called tonight and suggested that perhaps this was THE night where we finally made the dish.

Why not? I'm always up for adventure. He tells me he'll be home in an hour and we hang up. I pull out the red beans with the recipe on the back and race to the phone.

 "Hello?" says Blair.

"These directions are confusing," I say. "I'm supposed to add 3-4 cups of hot water to the dry beans, boil 2 minutes, then set aside for one hour. BUT, the recipe itself says I am to sort and wash the beans. Then soak the beans in 4 cups water in a large saucepan while I sauté onion, pepper and garlic in a separate pan then bring everything to a boil. So do I soak the beans for an hour first or do I just leave them in the 4 cups of water for the 8 minutes it takes to sauté?

There is silence on the other end of the phone.

"I'll work with it," I say and hang up.

I decide not to soak the beans for an hour, mainly because I'm hungry NOW. I sauté and dump everything in and boil away. But the beans do not soften, not even after 30 minutes when Blair arrives home. He walks to the kitchen and stands beside me, staring down at the boiling, tumbling mass of wrinkled red beans flecked with specks of green pepper.  He looks at me and I look at him.

"Feel like an Arby's night," I say.

"I've got the keys," he says. "Let's go."

The problem, in my opinion, is directions aren't clear. All food preparation instructions should be written in language a 4-year old can comprehend and even then there should be a special 1-800-for-Dena help line available.

But excuse me please. There are some curly fries out there with my name on them. 

Bad Nights Sleep

Have you ever just had a really bad nights sleep? I woke up last night almost every 30 minutes. I'd roll over and fall right back to sleep, but the damage is done.  I'm dragging this morning. I read an article in The New Yorker on the Donner Party before I went to bed. So perhaps the lesson here is that reading about cannibalism moments before sleep is not the best thing one can do to induce a peaceful slumber.

Sleepiness aside, today needs to be a day of accomplishment. I've got household tasks (drop the station wagon off as I think the brakes are about to go at any minute; make an appointment with the vet to have the cats nails trimmed; order new contact lenses), work tasks (2 humor columns due NOW,  follow-up on old work, get started on new assignments, sort through the towering mess of papers on the desk) and I have a slew of phone calls to make.

I went to yoga this morning and was deflated at how stiff and sore I am. Amazing how going just one week without exercise can set you back. If I go to class again tomorrow and Friday I'll be back in the saddle, but for now I feel very tight and unfit. I also need to find the inner resolve to get my cardio workouts going again.  That could be a challenge as sweating on a treadmill or passing out to Taebo do not sound even remotely appealing at the moment. Eating a bag of M&M's--THAT sounds appealing.

But I'll get there. I've fallen off the exercise wagon before and always manage to climb back on.  It's just a matter of making workouts non-optional. As in, no going to bed until I work out.

Yeah, maybe tomorrow.

Cheers,

Dena 

Teaching Saturday Classes

I taught two workshops yesterday through the free sessions offered at our local community college. I taught a one hour workshop on Networking and a 1 1/2 hour workshop on Writing for Magazines. The magazine writing workshop went great. Fun group, lots of questions and I had a ton of information to give them.  I love teaching that class.

The Networking workshop went not as well. My fault. I just wasn't as prepared  as I should have been. I can use the Portland trip  as an excuse but that's all it would be--an excuse. If I wasn't able to teach the class, I should have backed out. And it went okay. I just felt I was a bit dull and didn't offer a whole lot of useful information.  So good to know for next time--I need to work on adding more practical and take-away information.

To update on my last blog entry regarding my picking fights with everyone, I have apologized to the President of the group under Scenario I. She sent me an e-mail outlining some background information and--while I still don't agree with the tone of her e-mail--I do think I came down a bit harsh on her.  I need to learn to just let these things go, I suppose. I just have a difficult time overlooking something I think is unfair.  

SO MUCH work to do. Need to get caught up on my notes from Portland and send some info to my editor, I have my fiction to work on and a humor article due on May 8th that I haven't started yet--yikes! But first, a trip to the grocery store is in order. NO FOOD in the house for the past two days--I must eat!