Pushing the Limit

I accepted a couple of magazine assignments a few weeks ago and immediately put them on the back burner in order to work on the book proposal that's been occupying my time. Then I left town for the reunion and have spent the last two days playing catch-up. Which is why I almost fainted this morning when I realized I have less than 2 weeks to get the interviews I need and get these puppies written. 

One article requires I interview 5-6 different people. Ideally, I wanted them all together to do a group interview but I was doubtful. What were the chances I could gather 6 busy individuals on the same day, at the same time, with less than a weeks notice?

Strong, apparently. Every single one was free at the day and time I proposed and all are eager to meet. After hanging up the phone with the last person to confirm I turned to my cat, Lucy. "God loves me," I informed her.

The second article is about the Chinqua Penn winery. I called and spoke with the marketing director who suggested I speak with their wine maker next week at a wine tasting event. Sigh. Sometimes as a writer, we're just called upon to make these sacrifices in life. I told her I'd be there.

I'm only leaving myself a few days to write the articles, but they are not complex topics and if I come straight back from either event and start writing, I usually find that's when the images and words flow most readily. It's a struggle though, as writing is usually the last thing I feel like doing after an interview. But I'm just so excited that these interviews came together so quickly, I don't mind a bit. I'll probably throw myself into a writing coma by the end of next week.

Always something to look forward to. That, and the wine...  ;)

The Reunion

I have pictures to share from my 20th high school reunion but that requires me to figure out how to use the scanner with the new Mac which is something I'll work on this weekend. For the moment, we'll have to make do with a text version.

The reunion. In summary: not so bad. Fun, even. As a whole, I'd say the women are holding up better then the men. But everyone looked pretty good. There was no one that made me gasp and say, "What happened to him?"

Most people were recognizable, but nametags helped. But not always. At one point, I went over to say hi to a guy named Gordon. 

"Hi," he said, obviously with no idea who I was.

"Gordon, it's me! Dena. We both played clarinet. Sat by each other in band for three years?"

Nothing. No memory of me whatsoever. But it gets better. At this point, my friend Brett (a girl) came up to us.

"Hi Brett," said Gordon.

"Oh wait, don't tell me your name," said Brett. She stared at him. "I feel like I should know this."

"I took you to prom," said Gordon. 

The great part is, Brett never remembered his name. He had to tell her. Even better, the story circulated through our group and soon guys and girls alike were coming up to Brett and saying, "Hi, remember me? I took you to prom..."

Too funny.

Here's something I found amazing. I'd say a good three-quarters of the women at our reunion were stay-at-home mom's. Most had worked and then stayed home when they had their kids. I don't know why that shocked me, but it did. My friend Trisha asked me if I thought they were wasting their potential and at first I thought that was it, even though it's not PC to admit ti. But on further reflection, it's not that. I'm a big fan of having a parent at home with the kids and I recognize it's the hardest job on the planet. (Hence, my avoidance of it.) But in my mind, these were all still the really smart kids and I went expecting to hear about the great jobs they had and what they'd accomplished and when almost every one to a person said, "I'm a stay at home mom," it threw me. I don't know. I'm not explaining it very well. 

Anyway, the reunion was fun, but it's great to be home. I've got half a dozen projects gasping for attention so I'd better stop blogging and start working. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to go to the reunion. You're right. It was fun.

Speedwork... Sucks

No points for originality in today's blog title but I'm much too tired to care. I drove in 8 hours today from Ohio. I'm at a loss how to explain that it took me under 7 hours to drive to Columbus which is further north than Cincinnati and 8 hours to drive home, but whatever.  

I left Trisha's house at 5 am with the hopes of getting home in time for an extended relaxation period before driving into Greensboro for today's track workout. I made it home but rebelled physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually at the thought of getting back in the car, so I did the workout at home on my treadmill.

I hate speedwork. Just... hate it. All running is hard, but speedwork makes me want to throw my body down in the middle of a run and throw a temper tantrum worthy of a 5 year-old denied her favorite toy. "NO! NO! NO! Wahhhh!" is pretty much my mentality.

As I was heaving through a lap, I decided I needed an attitude adjustment and told myself to think of things I hate worse than speedwork. Maybe it was the lactic acid build-up kicking in, but I only came up with poison ivy, the Republican party, and artificial sweetener before I blanked. 

I'm spending tonight trying to catch up on e-mails and paperwork so I can hit the ground running with work projects tomorrow. Much writing to be done. 

Cheers.

Butt Pads to the Rescue

 Five minutes ago:

"Aunt Di-Di?"

"Yes?"

"Can you help me put in my butt pad?" 

And people wonder why I've chosen not to bear children...

It wasn't as bad as it sounds. Max is 11 and plays football. There is a cushioning apparatus called a "butt pad" that must be shoved down into a miniscule flap of fabric on the (not being worn at the time) male shorts. I shoved and tugged and stretched and hurled curses at the thing until I finally got it down in there. NOT a user friendly piece of attire. 

I'm now on my way to watch twenty-three 11 year old boys hurl themselves at one another while I feign excitement from the sidelines. I am WAY too self-absorbed to ever have kids.

Plus, I just can't get used to those butt pads...