I haven't really posted much lately about my actual life, and it seems overdue. Very overdue.

I have already mentioned how I took the GRE last Saturday. I followed that up with an evening of book-snagging at the SCIBA Author's Feast. I was hungry, sore, and bone-tired by the end of it. But I did meet a lot of good writers, including the elusive Pseunonymous Bosch, the hilarious Dean Lorey, and the dignified, worldly-wise David Benioff. Oh yes, and Dean Koontz. It was good stuff.

The next morning, I drove to Carmel. Didn't get there till the afternoon, of course, especially since I slept in a bit. My brother had called in the middle of the night, so I still didn't get more than six hours of sleep. With only five hours of sleep the night before, this was becoming a problem. I drove safely, however, and made it just in time to dig Kathy out of the sand and bury Chaeli in her place. I was there for about eighteen hours and slept about five. It was beautiful and cold and cozy and healthy and good. Drove back and barely made it into work at five o'clock.

The next day, I wrecked my car. Driving near ninety on the 101 didn't do it - scooting through 7th on Redondo did. I will not tell you all my feelings about Long Beach drivers and Long Beach roads. Suffice it to say, it's enough to make me want to move. Far away, where the roads are wide and speed limits are reasonably set to 50. So now I'm driving Amanda's red farmer truck. I haven't told her yet. Perhaps she is checking my blog in Guatemala - I should really email her first.

The next day, I had tickets for a boat to Catalina and back where I was booked to read stories to a group of preschoolers. Emily gracefully drove out to join me - it would have been a hot and lonely day without her. I arrived at the dock without my tickets. They were left on the seat of the van that dropped us off. I told myself, 'that's it! not one more stupid thing ever! not one!!' Here's the irony: I'm reading these kids these Halloween stories, and there's one that I've set to music - because that's some stupid requirement for reading to preschoolers, song and dance routines that make you feel like a tool - and I tell them this song is to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. And it's not - it's I'm a Little Teapot. I don't realize I said this till several hours later, of course, when I'm vaguely running through the morning in my head and I realize that Teapots and Twinkle Stars are not in the same melodic family.

So in this week alone, I have wrecked my car and thrown fifty dollar tickets away to my stupidity. And what is it that makes me cringe with inward embarrassment for the next 24 hours? The fact that I said the wrong song title without realizing it, and none of the preschool teachers corrected me. I have, apparently, gotten over the worry and stupidity of my other acts - what remains is the shame of this trivial thing. So are we caught up in our own appearances that a freckle will topple our dignity, while an error of judgment we freely justify. For shame.


  1. I'm a little teapot... short and stout... here is my handle, here is m spout...

  2. How is it that Emily is always the first to read your blog? Does she have some little alarm that tells her when you have written something, and she can wake up in the middle of the night to be updated on you? :)

  3. is this a competition? do i need to get a comment moderator?

  4. katherine - i'm horribly addicted and most of the time totally bored by the interwebz in general. so i stalk my sister. how pathetic. but really, i check her blog like Every Day and Sometimes More than just Once.
    aaaaack! i need a Life!

  5. oh, and: perhaps i'm not the first one to read it. perhaps i'm just the first to comment... hhmmm. ;-P


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