December 4th, 2008

ozarque figure

Personal note; update...

Things have been a tad busy here for the past four days. Happy, but busy. I spent a day trimming our Christmas tree, something I used to do all in one go but that I now have to work at for an hour and then sit down for twenty minutes and then work at for an hour and then sit down again for twenty minutes and [vamp till ready]. I find that elderly on-and-offness infuriating, as you know, which means that I've also had to work at not getting cross about it. Being cross, it seems to me, is entirely incompatible with the meant-to-be-joyful process of trimming a Christmas tree.

There are also many, many presents to wrap -- something I can, thank goodness, do sitting down! -- and I've been spending a lot of time doing that. I start my Christmas shopping and my Christmas gift-making in January, always, and continue it all through the year, making careful notes on sheets of yellow ruled paper in file folders labeled "Gifts for [whatever year it is]" as I go along. Especially notes about where the gift in question is stashed, so that I'll be able to find it again, come December. I know that's not as romantic as rushing out to the stores and mingling with the other shoppers at the last minute, listening to the holiday music playing and sharing all the excitement of the season -- but it works. If I went the romantic route, given the size of my extended family, the results would be disastrous.

I do realize that it's only December 4th ... lots of time yet, right? But the big packet of materials for my Huge-Emergency-Rush-Project is, my agent tells me, in the mail, and that means I'm going to have to weave the copyediting and file-translating/transmitting process for the HERP in among wrapping all the gifts and getting them mailed and doing my Christmas cards and cooking the holiday feast. Without a head start, I'd never get it all done in time.

I've also been working on two items for this journal: the first Gentle Art of Verbal Self-Defense post, scheduled for tomorrow; and a poem for the holidays. Because so many of you have read one or more of the GAVSD books, I've tried to write a post that's a little different, and a little new, and I keep tweaking it, fretfully, trying to get it right. [And while I'm here, if any of you have lost track of the directory of earlier GAVSD posts in this journal, it's at .]

And the poem isn't going well this year atall. [Ozark English word, that one; not the same as "at all."] I think that the prospect of tackling the HERP is creating an anti-poetry environment -- all about typos and headers and fonts and revisions-I'll-be-opposed-to and clerical claptrap -- in my mind. In no way is that conducive to poem-crafting. When I actually get a look at the m.s. I may discover that it's not that bad .... my agent keeps saying, "Suzette, it's really not that bad!" .... and then perhaps I'll be able to do the poem. Or perhaps not. We'll find out, in the fullness of time.

So, you perceive, I haven't just been lying around languidly, searching for the chocolates with the soft centers...