When Kelly Thompson and I used to ride on the swings in Oleander Park, or somebody’s backyard, we’d pass each other, one going forward, one going back, and we’d say Hi…Bye…Hi…Bye…like it was the funniest thing in the world. It was, for a four-year-old.
Try 40-something, and it’s harder than it looks, and yes, I’m a big fat whiner, I know it already so just shut your pie hole. (Um, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.)
All that is my grumpy way of saying wow, I’m hecka swamped today and have way the hell too much to do before tomorrow morning, so bye and all that. And then I’m leaving on a jet plane, etc. and off into European adventures. But it makes me all weepy to say goodbye to my darlings and my Mister, and I’m just a wreck. I’m gonna go do the 10,000 things I need to do, right now, but Kleenex is in my pocket because all I can do is cry. What a sad sack. Isn’t that the dumbest thing?
And because I’m quite convinced that I will die in a fiery ball of death, probably tomorrow at about 11 a.m., it just isn’t any easier getting packed and ready to go. It just isn’t. Aspiring Writers, this is the Dark Side of the clever imagination: the side that not only imagines but cinematically visualizes really terrible things in every single intimate detail in vibrant, living color. Like I can already feel my last gasp. I can feel the plane spinning. Ack. Ack. Stop, enough already.
But this is me. That’s just the way I operate. Expect the worst and be bloody well relieved when it’s all fine.
But anyway, have a good party for me after my flaming death (Dr. Tabor is my dentist should the need arise…) and it’s been nice. I mean, I’ll send postcards and blog as often as I can, if Death does not oblige me on schedule. You know. I mean, if, you know, the plane flies and lands safely and I have actual tales to tell. And survive the trip home again.
I’m going to pack my Dramamine now. See you in Lala Land.
Frenetically, imaginatively yours…
Advice to Aspiring Writers: Stay home. It’s the best defense against the flaming ball of death.