December 30th, 2006

winter

"Build a little fire this midnight"

I am safely back to my own disaster zone home, and it's good to be back. The house is slightly more reputable than it was yesterday. Slightly. The wrapped boxes under the tree are far less numerous, and we've run out of several kinds of cookies. (This is absolutely not meant for a complaint: having them hanging around indefinitely, getting stale, enjoyed by no one, is not the goal.)

We'll have a friend in from out of town this morning, and I think our burst of sociability will end soon after, and everybody will curl up with Christmas books and ignore each other in introverted bliss. And I will be in some danger of writing the end of the Carter Hall Christmas story by Twelfth Night. The automatic resolution generator wanted me to spend more time on hockey in 2007. I can only assume this means "write Carter Hall stories."

Our niecelet has vampire teeth. Hee. Also she sings to herself when pleased, little songs that sound like, "ehhhhhhdo ohhhhhhtoh oooohhhhtoh ohhhhhhtoh." She is often pleased.

I'm in that stage where I wake up exhausted again. We'll try to get past that soon. But in the meantime I find that all the anecdotes and discussions are wedged firmly in my brain, not to come out, and there are lamps to light and dishes to put away and laundry, oh, oh, the mountain of laundry.
good mris pic

Weeks of December 17-23 and 24-30

I have one rejection from last week. This week, nothing. It's almost like editors and agents are human beings with lives and needs and activities of their own, or something crazy like that.

Tomorrow I'm making lasagna. I didn't get lasagna for Thanksgiving or Christmas, so we are having it for New Year's. I am greatly fond of lasagna.

I am in post-Christmas paralysis on the subject of which book to read next. I am staring at my stacks and meeping happily. I'm sure I'll get over it by the time I'm done taking our Christmas treat over to our favorite neighbors' house, or if not then, certainly after dinner. But in the meantime -- meep! What to read, what to read!
tiredy

Kerbumpf.

Oooookay. Well, we now have an answer to the question of whether I get somewhat dizzy a few days after flying. The answer is, unfortunately, yes. (I suspected this in Austin: at first I was thinking that apparently a glass of wine and half a glass of champagne over the course of nine hours with a large meal smack in the middle was just too much for me. But then the dizziness didn't go away when I woke up in the morning, or the next morning. It went away the morning after that. Let's hope this is less lasting.)

In addition to that, much of my back is tight and knotted, and I keep having mini-nosebleeds.

So here's the plan for tomorrow:

1) We go nowhere and see nobody tomorrow unless things change drastically, and possibly not even then. We have invitations for tomorrow night to several places that will be jam-packed with people I would love to see. We will be declining all of them. Time to decompress. Past time, possibly. Exceptions: emergency situations. If you would usually call me to look after your child while you run your partner to the ER, by all means please do so tomorrow. Let's hope it doesn't apply.

2) I call to see when I can get my back worked on this week. Sooner = better.

3) I do some yoga in the morning if my inner ear is up to inversions at that point.

4) Lots of water.

5) Hot shoulder pack.

6) Hot tub time, as soon as the pH etc. checks out.

7) No typing tomorrow. Sundays are always my day off from writing fiction or paying/serious nonfiction (I work better with a day off). Tomorrow they will be my day off from typing completely. Exceptions: a) if you have a truly major crisis for which words from me seem like they might be useful; b) if there is something that must be planned in a timely fashion tomorrow (but not planned for tomorrow, because -- see #1); and c) if you don't know what c) is, it's not relevant to you.

Any further suggestions for de-stressing, de-dizzying, or removal of back tension or nosebleed issues will be considered as seriously as they were offered.

I am writing all this down here partly so you know why I will be under radio silence, but partly so that I am accountable for it: the Mris Has Decreed etc.

In all likelihood, there will still be lasagna.