Mardi
Having FINALLY finished the book I've been working on (a month after my self-imposed deadline, by the way), I think I should take a small vacation from writing. Sensible, don't you think? Which means no blog.
I know. I talk tough, but you called my bluff. I'm writing a post even though I'd really rather be reading right now. If I hadn't already read Veronica Wolff's new release, DEVIL'S OWN, that's what I'd curl up with. But since I've already read V's book perhaps three of four times (and it was excellent each time) I'm opting for Rachael Herron's HOW TO KNIT A HEART BACK HOME, or UNDER THE TABLE (a saucy tale from culinary school).
Or I might go on the roof and bask in the perfect San Francisco day. The view from the roof is fairly spectacular:
I'd sit up there, watching the sailboats on the bay. I'd probably drink a milky coffee too.
Or, if I could have anything in the world, I'd hang out with my sister:
Even though she gives me that beleaguered "the things I do for my sister" look when I ask her to take a picture ASAP and send it to me. She looks more like a New York editor here than my sister, which would make sense since she actually is an editor in New York.
Anyway, if P and I were together, you'd think we'd go for pi. (Get it??) But we'd opt for cupcakes. St. Cupcakes, to be exact:
But P is in New York, I'm in San Francisco, and the cupcakes are in Portland. We were a triangle doomed from the start.
Perhaps instead of writing my blog, I should do my toes. Currently showing: Wined Up. I'm thinking I might be more in a Princess Pink mood though. Or Red Hot Chili. Opinions?
Of course, now that I've posted a photo of my toes, I'm going to get all sorts of freaky fetish people coming by, because I need more strange people trolling my site. (Take that as you will.)
Dear Freaky Foot Fetish Folks: please move along. My toes aren't very nice and, you can't tell, but I have no toenails on my last two toes. (I like to think of myself as highly evolved.)
Or, since it's Mardi Gras, I could just start partying now.
Why wait for this evening's festivities? I've got beads, a cabinet full of liquor, and a roof. What more do I need? Plus I finished that damned manuscript—that's cause to drink and flash people in itself.
Dear Freaky Fetish Folks: I was totally joking when I said I'd flash people. Move along. Thank you for your patronage.
Baring Teeth
I flopped backwards on my bed. Dangling my feet, I stared at the ceiling and sighed long and with feeling.
"What's wrong with you?" my sister Parisa asked me as she walked into my bedroom.
"I need a vacation from blog writing."
Silence.
"I think I'll take this week off," I said, testing the waters.
"No you won't," was her immediate reply.
Frowning, I propped myself on an elbow so I could direct the full force of my pout at her. My pout is crazy powerful. "But I've written so many posts lately, for all kinds of different sites. Can't I just have one week off? It can be my Christmas present. I know Santa would agree I've been a good girl this year."
Parisa shook her head in the pragmatic way she has, obviously immune to my pooched lips. "You went too far with the good girl part. No one would believe that."
Not shockingly, I didn't really believe it either. "What should I write about then?"
"Write about me." Then she laughed. "Doesn't it just crack you up how I always think you should write about me?"
"Not really."
"I think it's funny." Still chuckling, she said, "Whatever you do, don't write something Christmas-y. That'd be obvious."
I did what I needed to do: I painted tomatoes.
"I don't want to write. I want to paint." I pursed my lips. "Maybe I'll paint a picture. It'd be work, because I'm guest blogging on Pens Fatales about museums on Friday. It'd all tie in nicely."
"Oh geez," my sister muttered not-too softly. "Do I want to know what you wrote about on the other blog?"
"Probably not."
"I didn't think so." After a moment, she said, "Shall I bring you some water for your watercolors?"
I smiled brilliantly. My smile is even more potent than my pout. "Yes, please."
A Tuesday Haiku
Time stops for no one.
Sand drifts, and the willow sways.
Much work, so no blog.