I'm suppose to be editing. I'm always suppose to be editing. I find it ironic that I fought to be an author and now that an editor is waiting for my rewrite to publish my first book, I suddenly don't have it in me anymore. I either have a headache or there is something really good on TV-a rerun that I've only seen three times and I just happen to be a the really good part.
It's already 10:30. If I start now, then by the time I get out my colored markers and get my self situated in a quiet, well lit place where my neck won't hurt when I look down, then it's almost 11:00. But then I realize I didn't get myself something to drink and so I have to go back down stairs to get some water and by then it's definitely 11:00. By 11:15 I'll need to go to the bathroom because I'm drinking water . My husband will hear me moving around and yell up to me to see why I'm not editing, so then I have to get back up and go out into the hallway to yell down at him that I didn't hear what he said. Then we'll have a convo about what he's watching and how it would be better if I was watching it with him, but I can't I'll say because I need to edit. Then I'll go back into my office and shut the door, but it's hot, so I open a window and stare out at this really big cool looking moon. By then it's midnight and I'm still on the first page of chapter 28. And then of course, there's the headache...
So, I might as well just go to bed now and get started in my editing procrastion much earlier tomorrow.
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Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
The little Tomato that couldn't
I've been trying to get into gardening. I bought myself a beef steak tomato plant and got so excited when I was able to pluck the unbeef steaky but edible red tomato from the sweet smelling vine and eat it. Wow! I made this! Well, not technically, but you know what I mean.
The vine got healthy, the fruit plenty and I was proud. At one point I looked out on my patio and found the vine alive with fourteen nice ripping tomato's. One of them, just about ready to cut from the vine and enjoy in a sandwhich. The next morning, I went out with sheers in hand gasped. All but two were gone!
I ranted with a strange sense that hovered between anger and pride. I blamed my neighbors who undoubtedly looked into my small yard with envy. Someone had a salad and was too lazy to purchase tomatos for themselves and snuck into my yard late at night. Probably waiting hours after I went to bed, waiting well into morning for my bedroom light to finally snap off so they could take mine. The poor vine looked empty. I hoped silently they weren't good. Grumbled a few choice curses about growing moles and facial hair. But not to give up, I watched it with protective eyes, watching the new fruit flourish on the vine, waiting for the first sign of red to grace the growing green tomato. "I've got five now!" I would tell my husband. I'm not sure he even listened.
Once again, the day came to cut my pride from the tall vine and share it with friend and family. They only got one slice each because the beef steak it was suppose to be, was not. Anyway, I was foiled once again. They were gone.
As I glance around my small garden with tearing eyes, I noticed so were my roses. And the blooms from my jasmine bush. What the hell? Some wicked soul had it in for my garden. I just about gave up on gardening until one morning I was awoken from sleep by an irritating "caw" outside our bedroom window. It was then I realized what was taking my tomatos. Crows! No wonder farmers have scarecrows!
I haven't figured out how to stop them yet, but I did notice this morning, one particular fat black one has an odd looking mole on the side of his beak and if you look closely at it, you'd swear it has hair!
The vine got healthy, the fruit plenty and I was proud. At one point I looked out on my patio and found the vine alive with fourteen nice ripping tomato's. One of them, just about ready to cut from the vine and enjoy in a sandwhich. The next morning, I went out with sheers in hand gasped. All but two were gone!
I ranted with a strange sense that hovered between anger and pride. I blamed my neighbors who undoubtedly looked into my small yard with envy. Someone had a salad and was too lazy to purchase tomatos for themselves and snuck into my yard late at night. Probably waiting hours after I went to bed, waiting well into morning for my bedroom light to finally snap off so they could take mine. The poor vine looked empty. I hoped silently they weren't good. Grumbled a few choice curses about growing moles and facial hair. But not to give up, I watched it with protective eyes, watching the new fruit flourish on the vine, waiting for the first sign of red to grace the growing green tomato. "I've got five now!" I would tell my husband. I'm not sure he even listened.
Once again, the day came to cut my pride from the tall vine and share it with friend and family. They only got one slice each because the beef steak it was suppose to be, was not. Anyway, I was foiled once again. They were gone.
As I glance around my small garden with tearing eyes, I noticed so were my roses. And the blooms from my jasmine bush. What the hell? Some wicked soul had it in for my garden. I just about gave up on gardening until one morning I was awoken from sleep by an irritating "caw" outside our bedroom window. It was then I realized what was taking my tomatos. Crows! No wonder farmers have scarecrows!
I haven't figured out how to stop them yet, but I did notice this morning, one particular fat black one has an odd looking mole on the side of his beak and if you look closely at it, you'd swear it has hair!
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