How did Dear Abby do it? (Or was it Ann Landers?)
PERSONAL to: Maureen. You were right. The real reason to get an ice-cream maker is to mix up some frozen cocktails. Those Tolstinis were excellent, and tonight’s margaritas were likewise. My only regret is I didn’t pull together a fish-taco meal to go with it, but by the second margarita, who cares? Alan had a rough day at work today, and it felt like a true kindness to greet him at the door with a frosty cocktail in a frosty glass.
Now to work on my body, so the next time, I can be wearing a peignoir.
I’m a little surprised more people didn’t comment on the Schwarzenegger story. Maybe it was just me; I had an e-mail exchange yesterday with one of my freelance clients over why I hadn’t been paid yet, and at one point it occurred to me that the amount in question amounted to an evening-out expense report for four executives, and yet it’s ridiculously important for my fragile finances. And Arnold is getting at least a million a year — from a magazine. To consult. I can’t stand it.
I hasten to add, though, that the money is about the only thing I’m not liking about my new life. I write what I want, which is all I want. I just need to figure out a way to write more. And to rewrite my screenplay, finish the treatment on the second, and squeeze in some short stories and/or a novel. Maybe I need a consulting contract.
And I won’t be doing it while school is out, it’s clear. Even with one relatively unscheduled child, it’s amazing how quickly the days pass, and how unproductive they can be, due to the constant interruptions. I’m experimenting with the Digital Underground philosophy of child-rearing, i.e., “Doowutchyalike.” The problem is, whenever I say this, which I put in non-hip-hop language thusly, “Please don’t come to me for every little problem you have. If you want a popsicle, get a popsicle. If you’re having trouble with your friends, work it out between you. If you’re thirsty, pour yourself some lemonade. Just use common sense” — well, it backfires. I come downstairs to find three girls watching Nickelodeon On Demand and jumping on the couch.
“The key phrase here is: Use common sense.”
Actually, you might want to turn away now, and you certainly won’t want to click this (image-free) link in the presence of bosses or small children, but when I read a story that begins, “Is there any way of making my anus more pink or lighter in color? Mine is dark and I hate it. Any suggestions?” — well, I’m going to read the rest of it. It’s an interesting look at just where on the long continuum of body modification everything tips into lunacy.
And even though there’s just, you know, the one piece, I think that’s enough for you folks. Is it the weekend already? It is. Have a good one.