I'm making a little pile of "things to take" under the window and I'm trying to control myself and not call Kathy up there to see if I get to go on Saturday. She'll call me today, I know she will, and if I run out of patience I'll call her. Later. I'll give her time to call me first before I call her. (See? I can be a grown up.) All taken care of. I put such hopes on that week up there in the woods along the bay. I hope that I get a lot of writing work done, I hope that I take long rambling walks, I hope that it's cool enough for a fire at night... cool, that's my biggest hope, it better darned well be cool because the cabin's aren't air conditioned and we'll only be in the air conditioned classroom in the mornings (when it'll be cool-ish anyway) and then we're supposed to spend the afternoons in Quiet Writing Time where we focus only on writing, don't talk to anyone, don't even make eye contact with people, just write write write. I have my manuscript with comments from Lala that I've already gone through and peppered with Post-Its (god, I love Post-its, don't you?) at places it needs work, so I won't waste much time shilly-shallying around figuring out what to do. That's one reason why I really love the Women's Writing Retreat--Judy demands that you have a project to work on, no airy-fairy "I'll write what the muse gives me" bourgeois crapola, just knuckle down and do it. That's another reason I like to go a day early; I can fool around setting up my writing area in the cabin and walk around to find a place I can sit out in the woods to write, then on Sunday I can do a little preliminary warming up type writing and maybe do a quick read-through of the manuscript, then on Monday when it's time to write I'm all cocked and primed so I can make the best use of the time I have. I need to zoom home on Tuesday morning to go with Durwood to a doc's appointment (lucky it's only a 90 minute drive) but morning's will be class time (I've done this enough that I pretty much know what she'll say) so I won't miss the Quiet Writing Time in the afternoon, that's the important part--for me, anyway. Today's Photo a Day theme is "everyday" so I snapped this spot where I am everyday first thing in the morning. I couldn't put myself in the picture because, well, I can't be two places at once, now, can I? Of course not. I mean, get real, I'm a genius but I'm not magic, not really.
September 6 -- German, The Angel Annunciate. Gabe, the stained glass angel had seen it all from his perch above the east confessional. After all he'd been up there for nearly eight hundred years, as far back as the earliest diocese records. He had gotten over seeing impetuous couples treat the pews like motel rooms for their lunch hour trysts. Overhearing confessions had kept him amused over the years, but the brawl before him today had him wishing he could lean over to get a better look. Two women, two old women in their widow's black dresses and, oops, saggy underdrawers were battling it out with purses and missals over whose turn it was to confess her sins. Father Donati was wisely staying out of the fray but Gabe bet he was peeking through the curtains, and the few other sinners lined up to confess were staying far back from the battle royal.
Fun! I'm off to work again, god, this work thing keeps coming up nearly every day. Whose idea was this working thing? Oh, wait, I had to pay the family dive bills about 19 years ago and ETO offered me the job. Now she's sold the business (well, in January of 2000 [huh, that long ago?]) and me with it. Since then I've worked for Mrs. and Mr. Boss for 3 days most weeks and been handsomely paid considering the infrequency of customers and the lack of things work-ish to do most days. I'm not complaining, really, in fact the only way they'll get me out of there is on a gurney, feet first. And with that happy thought, I'm off to get ready to keep the world safe from SCUBA diving. Geronimo!