Whirlwind!

I know just how this guy feels. You can only bang your head into the wall for so long before you just bust right through!

Crazy these last couple of days, I feel like the plates I spin have paired up and multiplied in my sleep. Had some work to do at the Prof.squared's yesterday, which didn't get done until today because my desk looks like a file cabinet exploded on it. I could have taken care of the desk yesterday, but instead I spent half the day on the phone following up some leads on an after school program story I'm doing, then I had a couple of interviews, followed by a Council meeting. By the time I got home, my brain resembled something like overcooked oatmeal.

Home computer is still crunked beyond use. Ugh! Did you hear that Donald Trump fired CAROLYN?! What was the man thinking? I was already bummed and sad about the death of Jeff Irwin, the upcoming anniversary of 9-11 and now that. Jeesh.

Best Laid Plans

I was kidding when I said I was trying to avoid laboring on Labor Day, but the universe took me seriously and my poor home computer is suffering the last of it's way over due death throes. Very bad news for me, because that will mean I have to spend more time at the office, dressed, and looking like a working person. Sucks.

I've been piddling around in my craft room for the last couple of days, working on a wall hanging for fall. Before I could read I was a mad drawer... person who drew... I make masks, sew, paint abstracts and decorate. But my passion is writing. Most of the artists I interview also write, but their passion is ART. I will tell you I'm not a great painter, but then I've never had any formal art training, so how do I know I couldn't be a great painter? That got me thinking about people in general, and the gifts everyone might have that they don't even know they possess. Wouldn't it be interesting to see what developed if every child were required to take art, music and creative writing all 12 years they were in school?

Labor Day Weekend

This painting is called Sitting on the Fence, it's by Jim Glover and the photograph does not do it justice. It was cold today and rainy, a reminder that winter's on its way.

It's labor day weekend and I'm doing my best not to labor. Long weekends are when you find out what a work-a-holic you really are. Sandra's manuscript arrived this morning, so I had to start on it at least. Did some updating on my website, answered e-mail, attempted to clean something and then decided it was entirely too cold and miserable to be that motivated so I spent the rest of the day reading a book. Interesting little mystery thriller called The Death Artist. If you like these kinds of books, its worth reading.

One thing I must do this weekend is prepare a couple of speechs. I'm speaking to artists next week and business women the week after that. The artists are easy, the women - not so much. I'm still trying to get my head wrapped around why they want to hear from me. I write like a talk most of the time, if you're reading this... that is me. Does this sound like a person who could teach a professional business woman anything? Well, I have a plan. I think I'll talk to them about mentorship and their responsibility to take on a teenage girl if for nothing else than to keep another generation from turning out like me! Living in a small town, people really know me and don't judge the quality of my work or my ability to get things done by how I'm dressed or whether I'm wearing make-up or not. When I need to, I can look professional... it's an act, but hey, we do what we must.

Hurricane Ernesto

I'm getting real tired of Hurricanes. First beautiful New Orleans, my sister's home and now North Carolina, my favorite childhood memory. We lived in Wilmington when I was a teenager, this picture is of Wrightsville Beach, I didn't take it but I know that spot. North Carolina isn't getting the beating New Orleans did, but any flooding is too much flooding.

100th Post Party

A mini landmark occasion, 100 posts here at random thoughts. Exciting news for me because I have a long history of inconsistency. I'm not inconsistant in completing tasks, just the method with which I complete them. It can be a filing nightmare. Journal entries in notebooks of every size, on scraps of paper, on the back of other things. I'm a hazard to myself.

Dark Daddy was able to repair what I damaged on my website and even added a cool little component that the technologically challenged, like me, can use to update things easier. He rocks! The newspaper managed to lose two of my stories - most importantly the one about Paul's art show that is scheduled for TONIGHT, the newspaper does not rock. My author is having a meltdown, and completely freaking over her deadline. She still rocks, this will pass. One more day without my assistant...