Thanks for the fish

hunkered down all day in anticipation and it has been snowing all day. But in the end, it’s only about 6 inches, which is nothing. I think it’s sleeting right now or maybe it’s stopped altogether. We went up for J’s family christmas last night and that was fun. His sister was there and she’s a hoot when she wants to be. She was on her game last night so we had fun. Then J’s dad kept feeding me drinks… tried eggnog for the first time, and some stuff he brought back from Scotland. Then in my drunken state I had the bright idea to invite them all the breakfast this morning at 8 am (huh?). J’s sister got us a gift basket with pancake mix and maple syrup and stuff, so I thought it would be a fantabulous idea to make it for them. And actually it was fun. We don’t have people down very often and we dont’ see the sister much since she lives a state away. And then I napped and ate and wrote all day.

Wrote 600 pages in my book, though I haven’t worked on it for 2 weeks. It’s definitely a work in progress. There are things that I already need to change, but I’m just continuing forward as I stumble my way toward a plot. A lot of things will need to be edited later though. Also reburning some cds that have gotten ruined in the mess that is my car. Not looking forward to driving to work tomorrow.

I did Tae Bo with J tonight. I only make it about 20 minutes into it and then give up, but I got about 2 minutes further than usual. At this point, I figure anything is better than nothing. This has been an ugly Christmas season in terms of gorging.

Anyway… I feel good about things lately. I think..I hope..that I’m finally learning the lesson of acceptance. Things are what they are. And as much as you overanalyze them, they still are what they are. So there’s no point making them into things that they aren’t. Yeah… : ) When in doubt, the simplest explanation is usually the right one.

New list of books I want to buy:

How to see yourself, by the Dalai Lama
The world without us, by Alan Weisman
On Chesil Beach, by Ian McEwan
Foolsgold, by Susan Wooldridge
Practicing: A musician’s retrn to music, by Glenn Kurtz
Real simple cleaning (my housekeeper quit)
A man without a country, by Kurt Vonnegut

Ok, now that I”ve said that out loud, I guess I have to go and finish a book now.