Off The Rails

Have you ever felt like you've slipped off the rails and you can't get back on? That's the way I'm feeling right now, not in a mentally ill context but that I've kind of lost hold of my time. I expect a lot of myself, getting up early so I can work out for half an hour, sitting at my desk to do a bit of prompt writing (that I post here), sticking to my food plan (Durwood's a big help with that since he's the cook who makes all the lovely delicious suppers around here). This past week or maybe 2, with all the kids coming home and me not working last week, I'm off the rails, sleeping late (until 8!), not writing, snacking on candy and Combos. Bad. Bad, Barbara! So today is the day I'm climbing out of the pit of self-indulgence and setting myself back on the road to health and happiness, or at least self-satisfaction. I did 32 minutes of Wii Fit Plus yoga, then had a healthy breakfast of cereal, skim milk, prunes, and a little cheese while I read the paper and did the crossword. Then I brought my second cup of coffee back here to my desk and wrote to a prompt, which I intend to put right below here this very minute.

I intend to continue to be good to myself in 2010, working to feel good, not focused on some unattainable weight number. I've already shipped off a query letter to 3 agents and I've got 9 more in the queue, so that's one goal I'm achieving. (I avoid using the word "resolution" because it just connotes failure in so many ways.)


January 4--Hawksbill Turtle. I look up to see a turtle the size of a garbage can lid swim out of a niche in the reef. Looking like a dinosaur lost for millennia, it moves its flippers slowly, stroking for the surface to take a breath. My breathing stops for a moment and then resumes ever so slowly and quietly as I try to fade into the reef and not disturb it. My eyes drink in every detail; the barnacles on the shell, the gash in one flipper, the mottled amber and brown and cream of the carapace that blends so well with the surrounding reef. I finger my camera wondering if I can get a close picture of the prehistoric creature. The hawksbill bobs on the surface for a minute, the slight chop moving it nearer to where I hover. It ducks down below the surface, its wide dark eyes intent on finding a patch of sponge or algae to munch on. I have my camera at the ready and calculate the angle of the creature's descent. All at once it spots me under my column of silver bubbles and veers away, its flippers slowly pulling it down with strong strokes. I begin to swim to intercept it, matching my fin strokes to it's pulsing strokes, but I'm falling behind. I stretch out my legs, kicking in wide strokes from my hips, and I gain a bit. At the last moment it changes the angle of its swim down to the reef, giving me a split second to snap its portrait before, with a lazy flip, it accelerates down the reef at a speed I can't maintain.

Well, that was a nice swim down memory lane. Enjoy your day!
--Barbara