So many things can happen in one day it makes my head spin.
Yesterday evening I met with my little crit group, Jan Dale (aka Cheryl Dale) and Pat Worley to discuss chapters we've been each working on for our new books. Jan's book is about a small town tax office. Jan used to be the tax commissioner for Forsyth County and has seen many structural and procedural changes in the system there. Pat has spent a lot of time in Washington DC on the fringes of the political world. As an up front observer, she's made some interesting stories wrapped in the tightly knit world of politics. They seem to feel Chattahoochee Dead is coming along fine.
Today I'll be meeting with my book club in Gold Creek to discuss the latest read,
Sister by Rosamund Lupton. It was a very long drawn out story that to me didn't really get started until 3/4 way through the book. Then it took off and a mystery (my favorite) actually started to unreel. Up until then it seemed to be overrun with angst about who what where why when and as with a lot of books, the center seemed about a hundred pages too long.
It's come to me I may have denigrated a friend of mine by bringing her up in a former blog whereby I only discussed an affliction she is forced to deal with instead of noting what a lovely supportive beautiful person she is. Now, that was not very nice. I should have expressed that she has the vision and taste to handle the chameleon Miche Bags, those sophisticated handbags which can be anything you want them to be. The amazing little creatures handle everything you may want to carry from exotic silk scarves to emergency tiaras, from tiger eye black pearls to yellow diamonds. I always carry my diamonds in one. A person is not limited to being only his/her affliction, otherwise we would all be called "Ms. Cancer", "Mr. Thrombosis", "Ms. Croup." Besides, Ms. Wright is naturally blonde, a state of being that I admire very much.
We were supposed to go to Alabama this week, but that trip was cancelled due to my husband needing to be available for a business trip instead. I'm very disappointed, but it looks like we may be in for a rainy week anyway.
The Atanta Writer's Club will meet this Saturday at The Georgia Perimeter College in Dunwoody at 1:45 in case anybody wants to begin their writing career. Maybe I'll be going to this after all. And next Tuesday I have a signing at a Chinese restaurant with a book club from Dawsonville.
I'm leaving you with another of my endless pile of short stories....
I have a theory that one can’t accomplish much without the accoutrements necessary for the job. One cannot play baseball without a real baseball, a real mitt and baseball shoes. You can go out into the backyard and throw a tennis ball forever and you will never get the feel for throwing a basketball--they’re worlds apart. And try running on damp dirt in tennis shoes. You’ll mostly slide and fall down.
Now, try tap dancing in sneakers. You’ll hear no tap, you’ll turn no turns. But you will stick to the floor. See what I mean?
So, if you want to do it right, you have to have the shoes. Which is how I happen to own tap shoes. After five weeks of taking tap dance lessons, am I getting better? I don’t think so, even wearing the right shoes.
I can hear the footwork because of the taps on the shoes. Mostly, it sounds right. So the shuffle ball change thing works. I know a flap from a kick and a grapevine from a buffalo. But there is a definite brain wave glitch problem.
I noticed the glitch after I bought the ballet shoes, which now lurk behind the tap shoes in my closet. After about six weeks, I could go into first position, second and third positions. I could hold my hands properly, pinkie extended. But when to arabesque and when to pirouette was a jumble.
Previous to my desire to be a famous dancer, I could vault a horse. I was successful at modern dance, and acrobatics. Pilates was a snap. Yoga actually boring. There was no brain glitch then.
It was when I tried aerobics that it got ugly. The brain glitch arrived in full force, refusing fast-track changing. It didn’t help that I had Attila the Hun for an instructor, and at first used her for an excuse. But I found out shortly it was really the glitch.
I’m planning to buy some cute boots for the line dancing class I’m taking. Never mind I’m a few years behind the craze. If the choreography is short and repetitious and I have the right shoes, maybe the glitch will go away?