… and I’m exhausted.
It could be three trips to St. Joseph in four days. It could be my escapades in St. Joe chasing a wayward cart flying down the street in 90-degree weather. It could be waiting for what the doctor is going to do about my mildly leaky heart, if anything. It could be the fact that my dear little Pumpkin kept me up doing heaven knows what last night. It could be the time of the semester, or it could be the time of year (a nap and pumpkin spice sound lovely.)
I haven’t written for a couple of days, and I have little time to write today. I feel like writing, because I haven’t written on my book, either.
Things have been going well. After the author fair I attended on Sunday, I watched my flat cart roll down a hill at an alarming speed1. Luckily, it hit no cars. Sometimes “going well” is relative.
I have a very busy couple of weeks. Internship visits today and tomorrow. Wednesday I have a moulage2 session for the Northwest Missouri Docudrama (don’t drink/text and drive simulation), followed by an internship presentation. Thursday should calm down, but the following week is Missouri Hope, the major moulage event of the year.
I’m hoping to carve out some time to write between these happenings and the usual tasks to teaching and grading. A little Starbucks time would be nice. At least I got to type this out.
ALSO: Kringle on Fire is live on Amazon!
Kitty’s name is Pumpkin, even though she’s pure black. Not sure how that happened, except I called her a little pumpkin.
She’s a sweet cat. She does not like being picked up and emphatically doesn’t like her belly rubbed like Chloe, but she enjoys rubbing against my legs and getting petted.
Richard needs more quality time with her. We want him to have a cuddlebeast in his life.
We lost Girlie-Girl a few weeks ago (old age) and feel we have missed a presence of a fourth kitty in the house. I put Richard in the position of finding the cat we want to adopt, and we ended up finding a year-old cat on Facebook.
We’re going to pick her up today on our way home from Kansas City. She’s pure — almost pure — black and she’s supposedly a laid back and sweet girl. For the most part our cats are laid back but for the neurotic Me-Me, who gets her name for the reasons you imagine.
I imagine this will be Richard’s cat, because I already have a cuddle kitty named Chloe (the tortoiseshell one), who likes stretching out next to me and really likes her belly rubbed. We weren’t counting on a cuddly tortie, but there we are.
I’m not sure of the wisdom of taking the kitten on a two-hour car ride, but she’ll be in a carrier. Probably yelling all the way home.
“That’s an interesting murmur you got there.” So said the PA as she moved the stethoscope around my chest.
“I’ve never had a murmur before.” My dad had a murmur, which eventually caused him a lot of problems, but he was born with it. I couldn’t believe that a murmur would hit me out of nowhere, like a Mack truck barrelling down the highway.
But my doctor is going to schedule me an echocardiogram when she gets back from vacation. I personally don’t think she’s going to find anything. It just seems so improbable to me. And I don’t want to think about what would cause it. It could be nothing, it could be heart disease, it could be something the doctors have missed all along.
I’ll go to my echo, and see what it’s all about. Hopefully it’s nothing.
I need to go back to writing on Avatar of the Maker, as I have only written about 2000 words in the past week. I could get it written in a month if I could get 1000 words a day. The problem is that I’m not eager anymore because of the remaining part being before the big ending and after Leah’s pregnancy revelation.
What would it take to get more eager? I need to talk to Baird. Baird is one of the male protagonists (this is not a love triangle!) He’s half-human, half immortal Archetype, and he’s in love with Leah. He’s a deliberate person, and could be accused of being slow by someone who didn’t know better. He’s a marshmallow in romance parlance.
I need to find his orneriness. I need to find his edge. I need to see him be worthy opposition to headstrong Leah. This part is murky and I don’t know where to go. How frustrating.
I am selling my wares at a book sale at the end of the month. I have only done one book fair before, a couple of years ago. That book fair was in my small home town’s library, and this next one will be down the road in St. Joe, three times larger.
I think I know what I’m doing. I have books: Gaia’s Hands, The Kringle Conspiracy, Kringle in the Night, It Takes Two to Kringle, and Kringle on Fire. I have business cards (I think). I have handouts featuring all my books, including Apocalypse (coming soon!) I have giveaways (squishy apples) and a “vertical” (a visual element; mine is a driftwood tree branch with hanging apples).
I still feel way out of my league.
I feel like a newb, even though I have been writing and selling books for years. (Writing a lot more than selling, to be honest.) I don’t feel like a grownup when I promote myself. I don’t feel like a professional when I promote myself. I feel like an imposter!
I have to remind myself: I’ve earned money doing this. Therefore I’m a professional. Therefore what I do is professional.
I’ll keep telling myself that …
Woke up this morning. I’m still 60. Which is good, because I’m getting used to it.
Today I turned 60. It doesn’t feel much different than yesterday, when I was only 59. Except the number makes me feel, well, old.
I’ve been thinking about getting older — 50s and 60s old, not 40s old. I’ve come up with the following:
My birthday weekend (when you turn 60 you get a whole weekend) has turned out to be — I’m having trouble finding the exact word. “Special” has an implication of something engineered to be perfect for one’s birthday. This was more like serendipity in action.
We arrived in Kansas City Friday night after eating dinner in St. Joseph up the road, and we arrived at the 21c Hotel, one of my favorite spots. It’s an artsy hotel, which appeals to my writer self, and part of the reason I do Kansas City trips is inspiration.
On Saturday, we started the day with breakfast at City Diner, which is truly a diner:
It has the settled-in look of a real diner, with hot sauce for your eggs and a menu of breakfast and burgers and fries.
From there, we spent some time at Broadway Cafe, so I could write and figure out a printing problem with a brochure I want to hand out for the book fair at the end of September. Broadway Cafe is a space for writing, and their coffee is perfect. I drank a depth charge (coffee with a shot of espresso) for the first time, and it was stout!
My husband and I were going to see Spirited Away at 3 at the Screenland Armour, so when we were done with coffee and writing, we noted that we would not have enough time to get lunch at Choga (way over in Overland Park when we were in mid-KC) so I suggested Blue Nile, an Ethiopian restaurant. Not only did that time out perfectly, it got us close to our destination of North KC for the movie. It was also tasty food.
Spirited Away is a classic Miyazaki film, artistic and fanciful. It’s a children’s movie, which hasn’t stopped any adults from watching it. I’m a Miyazaki fan, so it was a good choice for my birthday weekend.
After that, we went to pick up my birthday present, which was an orange Sailor 1911 fountain pen which we got at discount barely used. I collect fountain pens, so I was happy with the present and happier with the price.
We were too full from lunch to eat a full dinner at Waldo Thai, so we decided to have appetizer and dessert at the Savoy, a restaurant in the 21c. Oh, my goodness! Imaginative and tasty food! They treated me special for my birthday and put us in the private, round room. They also discounted us our desserts.
Today we’re winding down and sitting at Broadway Cafe again while I write this. A lesson learned — go with the flow, as the results are better that way.
Words Like Me 