I was super-productive today. With far too much work to do and too little time in which to do it, I was forced to prioritize and focus, and I did. More work this weekend, but I have a plan and I'm going to stick to it, because I love when a plan comes together.
*****
Saturday morning; Day 14. It's 8:30 AM and I'm 10 pages into the proposal that I'm editing. The proposal manager emailed me last night to let me know that they're 8 pages over the limit, and they're hoping that I can help them figure out how to get rid of the extra 8 pages. Piece of proverbial cake. I can write ten pages on a subject that could probably be addressed in a single paragraph, but I absolutely excel at cutting the fat out of other people's writing. It's going so well, in fact, that I wish I didn't have to stop, but high school swim meets wait for no one.
*****
It’s almost noon now, and I’m in the spectator loft at the Martin Luther King Swim Center. Rockville vs. Einstein. I don’t have a job today, other than to sit here and maybe take some pictures, and cheer. It’s a nice change of pace. I do miss my whistle, though. But I suppose there’s no reason why I can’t wear a whistle around my neck. Who would dare to question such an iconoclastic fashion choice?
In the transition from parenting babies and toddlers to young children to school-age children to teenagers, many things change but still others remain much the same. You would think that teenage boys, having heard me explain the definition of “ready” so many times in their lives, would actually ensure that they are truly ready to leave when it’s time to leave, just so they wouldn’t have to hear me explain it once again. But it almost never fails. When it’s time to leave for a swim meet or any other need-to-be-there-on-time event, when I ask if everyone is ready, they will invariably say “yes,” all evidence to the contrary. Then, I will be forced to point out that people who claim to be “ready” but who are half-dressed, barefooted, and blissfully unaware of the location of their possessions, are not in fact “ready.”
There’s “ready” and there’s “getting ready to get ready.” They are two different things.
*****
Sunday morning; Day 15. It's 11 AM. I went to Mass last night and went running this morning, so now it's time to work. I forgot my Fitbit when I went running, which means that thousands of steps won't count. Fitbit steps for me are almost like to-do list items. I can't overemphasize how obsessed I am with the Fitbit. I'll write and tell you all about it, but another rime.
The Golden Globes are on tonight, and I'm not even looking forward to watching. If I had anything to do with the Golden Globes, I'd ask every single presenter, nominee, attendee--everyone--to not even mention Trump, or the shutdown, or the Mueller investigation, or Putin, or the fucking wall. Not a word, not a hint, not even a look to suggest that anyone is thinking about Trump in any way. What would bother him more--the usual biggest-resister competition, or nothing--no attention at all? Plus, wouldn't it be fun to screw up the Fox News producers' production plans for the week? They're all ready to spend the early part of the week complaining about Hollywood's bias against Trump, and they'll have to go back to the drawing board if no one plays along.
It's later now, about 7:30 PM. I'm watching E's "Live from the Red Carpet." Initial impressions:
Sunday morning; Day 15. It's 11 AM. I went to Mass last night and went running this morning, so now it's time to work. I forgot my Fitbit when I went running, which means that thousands of steps won't count. Fitbit steps for me are almost like to-do list items. I can't overemphasize how obsessed I am with the Fitbit. I'll write and tell you all about it, but another rime.
The Golden Globes are on tonight, and I'm not even looking forward to watching. If I had anything to do with the Golden Globes, I'd ask every single presenter, nominee, attendee--everyone--to not even mention Trump, or the shutdown, or the Mueller investigation, or Putin, or the fucking wall. Not a word, not a hint, not even a look to suggest that anyone is thinking about Trump in any way. What would bother him more--the usual biggest-resister competition, or nothing--no attention at all? Plus, wouldn't it be fun to screw up the Fox News producers' production plans for the week? They're all ready to spend the early part of the week complaining about Hollywood's bias against Trump, and they'll have to go back to the drawing board if no one plays along.
It's later now, about 7:30 PM. I'm watching E's "Live from the Red Carpet." Initial impressions:
- Lady Gaga was perfect, as always.
- When I exclaimed "Oh my God, Carol Burnett!" one of my sons asked me who she was, and I realized that I have failed as a parent. Failed.
- I have no idea what Henry Winkler is nominated for, but I can't help but root for him.
- Melissa McCarthy also loves Lee Israel, as of course she must to have played her so brilliantly. How am I supposed to make a sensible whom-to-root-for decision between Lady Gaga and Melissa McCarthy?
- Elisabeth Moss and Taylor Swift video-chatting? Adorable.
- No one is wearing a whistle. Probably just as well. A whistle is a lot of look, and few of us can pull it off. Not everyone can aspire to the fast-lane life and runway style of a high school swim referee. Don't hate me because you ain't me.
OK. I'm totally going to watch the show.
*****
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