filling up

20 06 2011

oh boy.

for the first time in 7 months i have no assignment pending. i’m free to do whatever i please.

what to do – what to do?

first, i’m going to start tidying my long-suffering house. kitty will have to find a safe spot while i suck up everything that is loose on the floors (and walls for that matter).

then, i’m going to have a bath. a long bath with candles and chocolate and something bubbly.  someone may need to turn the pages of my book and feed me – it’s more elegant that way.

afterwards, well… i’m just going to roll around on the clean floor and laugh and sing – there may be dancing.

at some point i’ll start creating a fabulous meal and i’ll giggle and tell funny stories to kitty (and m who is injured and recovering at home with limited mobility).

zuzu will come home, soon after, and i’ll run to the door with my frilly red apron on, over my crisp and white ironed shirt and pretty, poppy skirt, and fling it open. we’ll embrace and i’ll feed her veggie crudités with home-made dip and warm-from-the-oven plump chocolate chip cookies with a glass of milk. we’ll sit at the round table and share highlights of our days.

ooh, a movie. a poignant, funny, dramatic, obscure, romantic movie – i guess it’ll have to be French. then, a book i’ve always meant to read, like – The Mill on the Floss or The Good Earth.

gracious me – there’s still so much left to do.  thankfully, i have a three WEEKS to fill with all this joy and abundance and gratitude…


my voice

7 04 2011

I’m in the process of writing a piece that is jiggering with my stomach. It’s a good story and it has wonderful scope for nuance and interesting dialogue – I’m well into it and I have a great overall feeling about its potential.

However, my stomach is reacting to it.

I sit to write and my previously mellow little belly, which is not hungry, thirsty or in pain, begins to dance. It hops and pokes and aches and burns and wiggles and jiggles until I have to stop.  I love my tum-tum and I want to treat it well, but I’m forced to ignore it – studiously – so I can get on with the business at hand.

I think the story might be a little disturbing to my tummy. It is personal – not to me, exactly, but to my dad. And if I would write it accurately and un-writerly, all would be well. However, I have taken a sweet little snippet from my late daddy’s childhood story cache and turned it into a menacing dramatic piece with danger, fear and a healthy dose of pathos.

Do I have the right? It was a lovely story about a boy’s experience growing up in the outback of Australia … I’ve loved this story for my whole life. Now, I am telling it in my way. With my voice. The little boy is no longer my darling father, but a character who behaves independently of my memories and has experiences that I’ve never heard about – until I write them.

I believe I do have the right. I think my dad would be amused and proud that I had launched him into a sea of drama and a little intrigue. I like to think so, at least. My daddy was a strong, intelligent and witty man who loved literature and a good story – yes – he’d be fine with it.

Tummy, do your thing and I’ll write to your rhythm.