Observations from my writing desk: 4/19/16

Location: New couch in living room, wedged between a number of pillows who didn’t ask for this and crowded with this week’s dog-sitting clients: two Yorkshire terriers and a wiry haired, sweetie pie mutt from Puerto Rico.

Instead of continuing on with the draft of my second novel (another malformed Work-in-Progress), I’m going to write something in here. On here. Under here? Through here.

I’m on spring break, which means I sleep a little later than my usual 5:30AM wake up time (#teacherlife), and spend the morning watching cooking shows and thinking about everything else I could be/should be doing. I don’t know if this happens to other teachers, but when given extended time off, I find that the sudden release from endless to-do lists, with no responsibilities clouding my vision today or even tomorrow, causes me to regress to the state of the prehistoric millipede, recently slithered up onto land for the first time from the swamp and trying to figure out what the hell to do with itself. What happens to an overtaxed mind when it isn’t called upon to be used? Cooking shows. Endless cooking shows.

Like the ancient millipedes that earned the honor of being the first life forms to crawl elbows-first onto land, watching cooking shows turned out to be quite a fortuitous journey for me as well. It reintroduced me to the person I equally love and fear the most–Martha Stewart.

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I love Martha. And I fear her. I don’t know when it began, but something about her perfectly enunciated words and her unabashed love for all that is rich and decadent has made her a figure of aspiration for me. To be specific, one of my long-held life goals is to one day be invited to her home in Maine for a weekend getaway, complete with an itinerary that begins with a vigorous 6AM hike fueled by homemade granola bars, and followed by fresh egg omelets from a variety of chickens clucking around the expansive porch, as well as (I hope) Bloody Marys made with tomatoes from her garden. Why do I want this? I don’t know–because every kid needs a dream? But I know that she’ll never invite me as I am today. I need to accomplish more, to complete my goals as she has completed hers. I need to have some more work under my belt.

Martha taught me that in order to succeed,

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Thanks, Martha. ❤

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