July 20, 2006

When It's Hot,

don't just sit around with a pillow on your lap and a hot powerbook on top of the pillow.

It won't help at all, you know.

This has been a public service announcement.

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July 19, 2006

I Update My Niece on My Crime-Novel Progress

I'm working with two different crit groups. My regular writing teacher is turning into a Nazi (she must think I need it) and my new "novel teacher" is a Nazi from the get-go. I will either achieve Great Things, or end up as a lampshade.

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July 15, 2006

Please.

Please.

Nevermind.

Please.


You know how it is: one is always bargaining with life. Especially those who were born without the gift of contentment.

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It's Too Hot To Work.

I'll be in bed with a juicy George Friedman book on precision-guided munitions.

Ta-ta.

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July 09, 2006

The Bangles Played

. . . for my birthday. Unfortunately, they did it out in Milwaukee.

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June 30, 2006

My Present Dermatologist

. . . is very cautious about prescribing medicated skin creams. I believe he's afraid I'll somehow manage to dry them out, create powdered versions, and snort 'em.

Next thing you know, I'd be a Diprolene 'ho, and it would be all his fault.

But, no: he's saving me from that sort of existence.

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June 23, 2006

It's So Hot in SoCal.

And it will get worse before it gets better; summer is upon us.

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June 16, 2006

Ever Had This Happen?

You're just sort of going along, just about as depressed as usual—no more, no less—when you suddenly hit a genuine bump in the road and realize that depression isn't so bad at all. As a matter of fact, it's downright tolerable.

Oh, well. I was on the Westside, and my mother made me a nice chicken salad. That's something.

Don't make me count the rest of my blessings; I'm not ready to quite yet.

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June 11, 2006

Thirty Things About Me, 5

15. What's your favorite brand of clothing?

Old Navy, along with any other manufacturer that uses natural fibers. Cotton and silk for me, Baby.

16. Where would you like to retire?

Right here where I am in good old SoCal. Perhaps a bit closer to the beach.

17. Favorite time of the day?

Ask Eric Clapton.

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Thirty Things About Me, 4

18. What was your most memorable birthday?

A tie between 17th (a beautiful clear glass tea set) and 18th (for ten minutes, my very own male harem). There was also a lovely Polish meal, circa 22nd or so. I've had some good times, 'cause I've always had good friends.

19. Where were you born?
Woodruff Community Hospital. My father worked there as a pharmacist at the time.

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June 09, 2006

If Drugs Are Like Gold and Jewels

. . . physicians are the dragons placed in front of the cave to guard them.

I went to the doctor today for a hydrocortisone shot and some prednisone, but was instead given more skin care advice—none of it too different from what I've been doing over the past three decades. The only real news is that diphenhydramine is not a form of diprolene, so I've been buying the wrong OTC shit. I'm mad at myself, because I'm a proofreader and fact-checker. No excuse.

If the holistic approach doesn't work, however, I will install myself in a tower with a long-range rifle and start shooting—just before I scratch the skin right off my body.

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June 03, 2006

Yes. Still Celebrating.

Last week I made the annual First Hamburgers of Summer to start grilling season and celebrate our anniversary. Tonight the husband took me out to an amazing restaurant.

We're running late this year: May is our month. Years ago we started dating at the beginning of the month, and we got married some years later over Memorial Day weekend. We celebrate the marriage, and our respective survival thereof.

I have work to do this weekend, but I believe I will get up early tomorrow and take care of it before church—because right now I'm enjoying the afterglow of venison and foie gras.

Lucky. That's me. Very lucky.

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June 01, 2006

Wow.

It's one of those times again: like the six-month period in which:

• we bought a house;
• three of our pine trees blew down in a windstorm;
• we went through a legal wrangle with our former landlady;
• I changed jobs at the Largish Publishing Company, jumping to an entirely new department featuring a different corporate culture;
• Attila the Hub won his first two Emmys;
• we got married.

I'm fastening my seat belt.

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May 28, 2006

She Is Maybe Nine Years Old.

She's a fan. I read a story aloud at a party last month that she liked a lot. Today Attila the Hub chatted with her mother while the girl talked to me about my writing, and her writing, and whom we each liked to read.

I realize that this is one of many times in my life I've witnessed an exchange between a precocious little girl and an adult who is just awfully dense: yes, this small person really is interested in adult things, and can be spoken to on an intellectual level.

Every other time, of course, I've seen this from the perspective of the smart little girl. Now I'm the stupid adult. Tempus fugit.

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May 26, 2006

I Was Going To Go Out Tonight.

Instead, I think I'll stay in and work on my writing and my weight problem.

Not necessarily in that order.

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No Such Luck.

Writer's Group didn't turn on me with pitchforks. So I suppose I shall have to finish this thing.

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May 25, 2006

"You Know," She Remarked,

"you do look beautifully put together."

It was nice to hear, especially since I was wearing black velour sweatpants and flipflops, and had barely decided to wear makeup yesterday, crappy as I was feeling.

Most of the time my mother regards me as awfully vain for wanting to bathe every day and wear makeup when I go out: it disrupts her schedule. It takes too long.

But on a day I've invested nearly nothing in my appearance, it's a nice surprise when she says a thing like that.

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Full Slate Today.

Errands galore, and tonight is writer's group—so I need to crank out a little bit of fiction. Therefore, you may not hear too much from me until I get that 11:00 p.m. energy surge and check in to obsess about Some. Urgent. New. Thing.

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May 24, 2006

Diagnostic Time.

Lunch with my mother. I talked mostly about myself. We came up with theories about my stomach problems, including:

1) inflammation of my appendix, with fun times ahead of me;

2) an ulcer;

3) some exotic cancer (perhaps the first of its type);

4) pain resulting from alien abduction and resulting abdominal probe (up-to-date Martians have appently gotten bored with the lower intestines and are moving up the old digestive system);

5) "Welcome to middle-age, Babe: you're fat and you get tummy aches. Deal."

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Okay. We Can Play Doctor.

Wait; that sounded wrong. I was convinced it was the flu until I failed to get any body aches. So my symptoms are occasional vague feelings of nausea and gassiness, along with:

-dizzy spells every 48 hours or so;

-near-constant discomfort all along the front of my torso, from right below my boobs nearly down to my pelvis;

-bloating (e.g., I'm wearing sweatpants because anything with a waistband is uncomfortable).

Posted by: Attila Girl at 08:24 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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