Spread too thin

With gratitude and apologies to my two readers and most of all to myself, I am officially excusing myself from NaBloPoMo, NaNoWriMo, and WhyMeNoWri. I am spread too thin, with too many ambitious creative commitments.
     "Know thyself" is the most important self-help adage, my Weight Watchers leader, Beth, says repeatedly. (Going to Weight Watchers weekly is truly like getting $10 per hour therapy, and the stuff I hear there applies to a whole lot more than food/eating/weight loss. Plus there are recipes.)
       And myself is in need of focus. The novel needs my full attention. I just don't have great stores of concentration, I discover, and the limited amount I have can best be used there.
       My one week of renewed blog-posting put me in touch with my original NaNo sponsor and has made possible an unexpected reunion. So hooray for that!
       If the spirit moves me, I'll be back here. If not in the near future, then maybe later.
       I couldn't just fade away. I had to ANNOUNCE it.
       Bye! I'll miss me!

I'm not here

Yeah, I might not post today. 

Just letting you know.

So, don't look for anything.

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Pudding Pages

The Artist's Way, a book about accessing one's creativity, was written by Julia Cameron.

I read it years ago. One of the creativity exercises she recommends is what she calls "morning pages," three pages of handwritten, free-association writing, done first thing in the morning, to get the hand moving, and the juices––you should excuse the expression––flowing. It's a kind of mini-NaNo, to be done every day, no exceptions.

My free association takes me from morning pages to Picture Pages

which brings me, naturally, to this:

A different path of free association takes me into scarier territory:

Julia Cameron once looked like this:

but more recently looks like this:

which is a kick in the gut right there.

She was once married to him:

and he had an affair with her:

who has free-associated herself to now look like this:

who was once married to this:

I'm going to spare us all having to gaze upon what he looks like now. Sheesh.

There was no real point to any of that, and that's why it qualifies as free association.

NaBloPoMo can serve as my morning pages for the month, though it is not handwritten, and it is not quite morning as I post this. I had a bad night. There wasn't any sleep in it. So morning today was a moving target.

Unfortunately I didn't get any other writing done yet, either. But the night is young! See you in the morning!

This, on the other hand, never fails to cheer me.

Triage

The time has come, suddenly this morning, by way of one of those encouraging emails from my agent, to prioritize my projects. The silly stuff has to make way for the serious stuff, and if that means bailing out on the NaBloPoMo thing, then so be it. 

And the NaNoWriMo thing may have to take a back seat this year, too. 

Because there is interest in my novel. My unwritten, unproven novel.

Interest by an editor at a real "everybody has heard of it" NYC publishing house. And that editor has asked my agent "When can I see it?"

When can SHE see it? When can I see it? 

Crack of Noon

Sunny day, sweepin' the clouds away.

Or is it clowns?

This is marketed as a "Clown indoor broom"

Fresh start, new day, back to the drawing board. I have lots of work to do, and I am gearing up to do it. Proportionally more gearing up than is strictly necessary, but one does what one must.

This, the blog posting, is gearing up for the NaNo writing, which is gearing up for the real writing, which is the project that I alluded to two months ago.

A few weeks ago, I had to pass through customs or immigration or whatever it's called when you show your passport to a stern-looking individual sitting on a stool at a not-very-intimidating little booth in a large room and before whom you must remember to be serious and direct and not make any sudden moves or end any of your answers with "Heh heh, just kidding." When he asked me what I did in "Massachusetts" (it sounded like it had quotation marks around it when he said it), I answered, "I'm a writer."

I omitted the "Heh heh, just kidding," and he didn't bat an eye.

I like to wear all black when I travel. It simplifies packing.

Though I didn't have to swear an oath, I think that makes it kind of official.

So, I'm a writer, you guys. I'm writing a novel, and I have an agent. Yup. I have a literary agent in New York City (ever heard of it?), whom I have not met but who calls me on the phone and writes me encouraging emails. And any minute now, right after I write 1667 words on my NaNo document, refresh a few dozen websites, make lunch, and possibly go out to CVS, I'm going to be writing that novel like it's going out of style.

And also, look at me going to foreign countries solo without getting all "What's it all about?" about it in advance––while six months ago I was musing profoundly about the significance of taking the train to New Jersey by myself. Stretching much? I'm Gumby, dammit.

Don't get too excited about the passport, though. It was Canada.

Here's what I did in Toronto:

Harrowing.
 Heh heh, just kidding.

NaNo NaNo

Sssshhhhh.

I'm doing this just for me. Stop looking at me, privacy invader! Why are you reading me? Is it because I'm a public blog and not a Hello Kitty diary hidden in an underwear drawer and locked with a little lock that can be picked with a bobby pin? What's a bobby pin, you ask? Are you from the future?

Back to my request: Stop looking at me when I'm jumping up and down and waving my arms wildly in front of you!

It's November 1, which is a full and precise two months since I last posted. Nice and neat. Today is the start of National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo, which anyone who knows me knows about, so I'm not even going to link it.

OK, I linked it.

BUT. . . it's also–– apparently, lamely, and totally copycattedly––National Blog Posting Month. NaBloPoMo. Psych! The point of which, I think (I'm not going to be reading any RULES or anything) is to post something every day for the month of November.

As stated elsewhere herein, I like starting things on starting days and then making optimistic plans to follow through in an orderly fashion. So––

Here I Go!

The question will be what to blog about every day, which I guess is part of the point.

Should I explain, just in case the Mork and Mindy reference is lost on anyone? Nah. It's just for me, remember? 

Thirty

Yesterday I had my thirtieth Pilates session. My first was in L.A. on May 19, so that means that the 30 sessions were clustered within roughly three and a half months.

Loyal readers may remember this, from the Boston Body website:

Just complete 30 sessions every 3 months and you will achieve the body and the results you’ve always wanted. Our clients are the proof – it really works!


Also, I'm not sure if I have shared this basic tenet of Pilates before:

"In ten sessions, you will feel the difference, in twenty you will see the difference, and in thirty you'll have a whole new body."
––Joseph H. Pilates

This is either Joseph H. Pilates or Reginald E. Treadmill.

Alas.
I am sorry to report, dear reader, that I do not have a whole new body.

I'm not here to blame anybody. I'm just reporting.

I'll admit I'm disappointed in not having transformed myself in some measurable, confirmable way. Remember when I wrote that whole long thing about needing a test to determine if a goal had been reached? (It took me a while to find it; it was the last entry in June.) And remember how I was going to do four things this summer? And remember how summer was going to be the 100 days from whenever I decided it? I reckon there are about 8 days left until the day of reckoning. So, though I am a week early, let's reckon.

What of the "four things"?
I have gone to 30 Pilates sessions (and gained between five and seven pounds).
I have read a total of five books.*
I have cleared out zero cartons from my garage.

All kind of disappointing, to be honest.

This leaves the writing.
My postings here have slowed considerably. I didn't continue with the one-a-day Self-Reliance writing prompts.
But.

I do have this writing project, and it is very much a fish-or-cut-bait situation. Sink or swim. Put up or shut up. Poop or get off the pot.

Trademark infringement?  Sue me.

I'm not sure if it makes any sense to blog about my writing, especially since I'm not yet ready to disclose anything about it. Therefore, I'm not sure how I'm going to use this space from now on, but that has been an ongoing theme here, so I guess nothing has really changed.

I know this all sounds kind of down. Whaddyagonnado? Life is, as the class president at my high school graduation memorably proclaimed, a series of mountains and valleys. If I find myself in a valley and that's not where I want to be, then I have to conclude there's a mountain to be climbed. And that mountain probably isn't going to climb itself.

You were expecting a funny photo of a mountain here, weren't you? You know what I really want to end with, though, since this has been a summer rerun episode anyway? I want to end with this graphic, repeated from June:

Boy, seems like I must have been pretty smart in June.


*Because it took me five minutes to remember what book (besides Bossypants) I was referring to in my June 26 post, I am now going to list the five books I read this summer: Netherland, Joseph O'Neill; Bossypants, Tina Fey; How to Be a Woman, Caitlin Moran; A Visit from the Goon Squad, Jennifer Egan; The Paris Wife, Paula McLain.

Lack of a clever title shouldn't stop me from posting, right?

Gull 1: "May I buy you a . . .?" Gull 2: "Take a hike."

I've been to the beach. 

It's nice at the beach. There's a lot of movement to keep things interesting. The waves, for instance. They just keep coming. High tide, low tide, early morning, late afternoon, at night when you're finishing your ice cream and getting bitten by mosquitoes and the moon is full––the waves keep doing their thing. (Earth science is not my strong suit.)

Which got me thinking about how people always say "Change is good"––in a motivational slash inspirational way–– and that people who change are seen as energetic and brave and forward-looking, while people who don't change are seen as boring or timid or possibly wasting their lives. And how stretching is really another way of saying "attempting to change," which is all I've been talking about here.

But some things that are good and valuable and inspirational DON'T change. See what I'm saying? Not just the waves, but Peanut Butter Cup ice cream at HCICP, and bagels from Neptune Market and scones from Foodies, and doing a really hard jigsaw puzzle on the round table, and going to the same beach with the same people for 20 years. 

I know. You don't have to point out how it's good to change in some ways and keep things the same in other ways. It's just what I was thinking about at the beach.

Artsy.

I'm ready to part company with Pilates. My monthly membership at Boston Body expires right after Labor Day, and I don't think I'll renew for a fourth month. Awww, I know––sad face––we've come so far together, you and I and Mr. Pilates. 

But it has served its purpose, and the stretching as metaphor will continue. I'll get to that in a minute. And I have a very nice DVD and stretchy-band Reformer to use at home. (Thank you, gift-giver!)

I will look like this, but bigger.

So don't worry, everybody! I'm going to keep walking, and in October I'll go back to the Y, where I had suspended my membership for a few months while I was doing Pilates instead. So, it's all cool. I'll be fine––all tall and bendy and whatnot.

Meanwhile, I've got a new writing project I've set out for myself, to begin imminently. Soon. Monday, probably. It's going to stretch me good. 

I am sorry to be so coy; it's not something I'm ready to get all share-y about, and I'm taking a "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched" approach, as protection. However, as one very astute counselor pointed out, "Being excited about the eggs is OK!"

I am pretty excited about the eggs.

I realize they're all "in one basket." One cliche at a time, please.

Travel is broadening

We had a perfectly splendid vacation in Scotland.

This sums things up.

There are more photos to share, and if you haven't been informed how to see them and are interested, just get in touch.


Now that my last planned adventure of the summer has been completed, I'm at a loss, again, as to what it is I'm to do in this space. There are thoughts and observations that occurred to me while I was away, but writing them here would violate the "nothing maudlin" policy that I wisely enacted a few months ago. So those thoughts will find another outlet.

I'm going to be away on a post-vacation vacation starting in a few days, and I will not be blogging during that time.

When I return, I'll try to figure out if I've stretched this metaphor to its natural limit.

Cheers!

I'll take the high road and you take the low road

Today:
Shopping in Oban, in mist and overcast skies. This is what we thought the whole week might be like. But it wasn't!

Then more driving through more beautiful countryside on more winding roads past more shimmering lochs stopping at more scenic overlooks and having more tasty food cooked and served by more friendly people speaking in more delightful accents.

That about sums things up.

This is Loch Lomond.

Tonight we are in Glasgow, which is very much more "modern" than anywhere else we've been. We got the lay of the land with an early evening walk and dinner. Tomorrow we'll see what we can see in 8 hours, then it's on to the airport hotel in Edinburgh.

I'm on a boat

Not now, but earlier today we took the ferry from Skye back to the mainland. Then we drove to Ben Nevis, the tallest moumtain in Scotland. We took the cable car up, and on the way I realized I'd left the iPod in the car. So, sorry, no picture from there.
Tonight we are in Oban, and tomorrow we'll head to Glasgow.
There have been too many sights snd experiences to include here. I'm not even reporting on the highlights, just on the one thing a day for which I have a photo and a snappy title.
In answer to the question of how clooty the dumpling was: I've now had it twice! It's a moist fruitcake, made with molasses (treacle is what they call it here) and served with either custard or cream.
Equally yummy is sticky toffee pudding, which is a butterscotch cake, also served with cream.
Wait, is toffee butterscotch? Hey! Butter-SCOTCH!

E pluribus unum

Another perfect day

Eureka!

And I found it and ate it in a tea house
in the town of Uig on the Isle of Skye.

Wifi has been too hard to come by and typing on this keyboard too tedious to do justice to the experience.

I'll just post a couple of photos with no commentary.

Arthur's Sea

That's an intentional typo. It's really Arthur's Seat, an 820-ft (meters be damned) hill adjacent to Holyrood Park. And I climbed it! Up steep inclines and over craggy rocks!
Almost!
I got to within spitting distance of the "summit" --without ever bursting into tears, let it be noted--and then decided that I didn't like it any more and decided the view from where I sat was just peachy. I was given many good-sport points from the point-giver, my Tenzing Norgay, who made it to the top in my name.
It provided a spectacular view from wherever you stood (or sat) and it was a good farewell event for our stay in Edinburgh. Tomorrow we start chanting "Drive on the left, drive on the left . . ."

Last night revelers of unknown origins reveled in a bar right below our hotel room window until nearly 4:00 am. I'm wary of a repeat tonight . . .

What movie had a scene set here?

This is the remains of the abbey at Holyroodhouse Palace. Which is where the queen stays when she is in Scotland, they said, though I thought she and the Corgis stay at Balmoral. Maybe that was Helen Mirren.
The ruins of the abbey was the best part. The palace itself is shabby chic, I guess. They seriously could use an extreme home makeover or Nate Berkus. No offense.
Taking a dinner break before posting the last installment.

Paparazzi shot

You'd have thought J. K. herself was there, seeing what a crowd there was just to take a photo of the window. So of course I did too.

I didn't take pictures of the main activities of the morning and mid-day: the National Museum of Scotland, then a walk around the neighborhood of the University of Edinburgh, and a jacket potato for lunch. Then we regrouped for our afternoon itinerary.

Paparazzi shot

You'd have thought J. K. herself was there, seeing what a crowd there was just to take a photo of the window. So of course I did too.

I didn't take pictures of the main activities of the morning and mid-day: the National Museum of Scotland, then a walk around the neighborhood of the University of Edinburgh, and a jacket potato for lunch. Then we regrouped for our afternoon itinerary.

They don't know it's lox

They call it smoked salmon. Fine. It was really delicious, served with scrambled eggs and buttered toast. And a pot of tea, of course.

Today in 5 snapshots

It was a picture perfect October first kind of day. Cool, crisp, sunny. This is St. Giles' Cathedral on the Royal Mile. We've walked along this section of the street many times . . . It's just a block from our hotel.
This morning we had breakfast nearby, sitting outdoors.
Coming up next, the requisite food photo.

When in Rome

I had a beer with dinner! (a fruity one)
Meh.
But everything else has been lovely.
I can't figure out how to enter more than one photo per post, so I'll have to do one comment per, like a real postcard.
About to to go back out for more walking around because it's 9:00pm, but it's still bright daylight!

Edinburgh Castle

Good thing I didn't see them on the wing of the plane! (Bridesmaids joke)

The first day felt like two days

First dinner: vegetarian haggis with neeps and tatties. I have a feeling that it being vegetarian took all the haggisness out of the equation.
Posting on this tiny keyboard is difficult and adding photos is hard to do too, so I'll keep the posts short.
The Scotsman (hotel) is lovely.
With about 12 hours of sleep to bouy us, we're off to sightsee.

Land of Tape and Broth

My heart will soon be in the Highlands. Along with the rest of my major organs, if all goes well.

I'm a tad nervous, I'll admit. I'll take this as evidence that I am stretching the stretching muscles, I guess, so it's all for a good cause.

So, I'm signing off until the next chapter from the land of kilts and bagpipes. Haggis and oatmeal.  Castles and whisky.

Oh, wait. One of the guidebooks has a list of Scottish Words and Phrases, and they claim these are in common, everyday usage, but advise visitors not to use them themselves, lest they be thought to be "showing off." Beyond the expected bonnie and wee, I like these two, which are food items:

champit tatties
clootie dumpling


I don't feel like telling you what they are. If I see either one on a menu, I'll report back.

If nobody hears from me for 100 years, you can assume I'm dancing with Gene Kelly.

Love, love,
Clootie Dumpling

The night before the day before

I'm not asleep.

I haven't had this kind of sleepless night in a while. I'm running through packing lists and don't-forget-to-do-before-I-leave lists in my head.

I can plan and pack for a weekend-in-New-York trip without a lot of thought. Same with a week-at-the-beach trip. It's a matter of repetition, obviously––the way you get good at most things. How do you get to Carnegie Hall? On the train, with a small suitcase packed with capris, black pants, a couple of tops, comfortable sandals, and a sweater for cool evenings. Oh, and practice.

Our recent weekend in New York was fun. Hot weather. A lot of walking.  We experienced the High Line, which is pretty much just walking, but a little bit closer to the sun, so just a tad hotter than walking on the streets.

I seem to have established a policy of not having any photos of myself  or any friend or relative on this blog. So here is a very boring photo from the High Line. I may have to consider amending my policy.

Other unpopulated sights from the weekend:

Wanna buy a bridge?

How about an island? $24.

Washington Square

There was a farmer's market in Union Square.

You know how in movies sometimes the female protagonist is some kind of soulful creative type who has a terribly quirky artistic niche, like constructing miniature furniture or photographing vegetables?  I could so do that! Look how photogenic they are! 

I guess I can let the haggis out of the bag and announce that we are going to Scotland. As if you didn't know. I will blog if I can, since there will likely be something interesting or, at the very least, scenic to report on. I can't guarantee that all the capabilities will be in place, but let's hope for the best.

Here's my tribute to Scottish literature: The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. I read the book and saw the movie back in my impressionable years, and yet the impression that remains is dim at best. Still, it strikes me that it could be perfect material to be made into a musical, don't you think?

Annie meets The History Boys!

Maybe I'll try to locate a copy tomorrow to take with me. Easier read than anything by Sir Walter Scott, methinks.

OH! P to the S:
Celebrities! In NYC I saw––gathered under one theatrical roof:
Tommy Tune
Susan Sarandon (yawn; already saw her once, a couple of years ago)
Al Pacino
Nicole Kidman

That is a good crop, if I do say so myself.
But New York is easy.
If I see a celebrity on the Isle of Skye, I'll plotz.