Published at last? Well, maybe not yet, but last night I was, in my dreams that is. None of it happened the way I had imagined. I went to this publishing house to ask a few questions regarding my yet-to-be-published-novel. A bunch of ladies were working there and a man walked in waving a book in the air, “Laughing without accent,” a new book by Firoozeh Dumas, and everyone cheered. One of the women said, “I didn’t like her first book much.” And I grabbed the chance and went off on what a low blow that book was and how disgusting that the author would make fun of her parents. “It’s one thing for a comedy to make fun of yourself, but to belittle folks who are doing their best to give you a good life?”
A hush fell over the crowd and I looked up to find the woman standing next to me nodding to the man. The alarmed look in her eyes made me stop talking and when she was closer, she whispered, “He published her!”
To make matters worse, when the man came closer I noticed he had my manuscript in his hand and my heart sank!
“Here I go, opening my big mouth!” I said apologetically.
Ignoring me, he went through a stack of index cards, held them before the woman and she pulled one out.
“Okay, Gail it is!” he said, glancing at the card.
A woman came out of the back and gave me a hug. “I’m Gail. I’ll be the one working with you!”
“Oh, but I already have an agent. I’ve put all her contact info on the cover letter!”
She laughed. “Jennifer will be informed. I’m your editor. You need experience!”
I was so happy, I thought I’ll choke. When I walked out of the office, I saw a woman crying. She said her father had just died and his last request had been that in the year 2011, she should dance in his honor.
I gave her a big hug and let her cry on my shoulder. “Don’t be so sad,” I said, “You were lucky to have him around for so many years. Mine died when I was only eleven!” And I woke up!
Okay, so this wasn’t a humorous blog, but it sure is a remarkable dream and won’t it be funny if I do get published and work with an editor named Gail?!
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Fatigue can be a bliss
Fatigue Is My Bliss
There used to be a time when exercise, hard work and especially running were normal daily functions. Being late meant you had to run, and muscles were there to lift. A full day was followed by a full night’s sleep when the only concern would be waking up in time for another busy day. For several decades, I went through life without thinking of my body and nothing could be further from my mind than the possible toll such activities might take on me.
As I go about the heroic tasks of each day, e.g. washing dishes, doing the bed, or taking a shower, each move reminds me that I am a champion. Did I have the same feedback when I single-handedly dug a new flowerbed in the garden, moved furniture and carried my not-too-skinny babies up the stairs? Did I know what a great job I was doing when I cooked seven course meals for a crowd of more than fifty, not to mention serving, and the cleaned up? Did anyone acknowledge the fact that what I did was way beyond human capacity and that God had created these hands for manicure and not for pealing eggplants? With no medal in sight, I’d like to see the Olympic runners try and keep up with a two year old, yet I ran around for decades and now looking back. . . well, let’s not, that hurts my neck.
I’d love to do a survey of people under thirty and ask them how many times a day the thought of “spine” crosses their minds. Yes, the spine, those little bones that I now need to consult before bending to pat the dog. But I'll bet, with education being what it is, I may hear something in the lines of, “I’d really love to see Barcelona!”
And yet, it is your spine that is going to hold you upright-or not- for the rest of your life. I mean, you call your roommate to ask if you could borrow their hair dryer, yet in an attempt to lift Mount Rushmore, you carelessly tear the ligaments that are the rightful belongings of these little guys without their consent?
It takes decades for our body parts to learn their rights. Yesterday I asked my eyes if they would please read the small print on my prescribed medicine and you should have heard them laughing! Oh, we have so much fun these days, my body parts and I. But I treat them well, talk to them when I rest, ice them when they hurt and give them soothing baths. I even scrub my feet, well, maybe not all their sides, just the parts I can reach.
Fatigue can indeed be a bliss. When you need hospitalization after making dinner for two, when a cup of coffee becomes your sleeping medicine, when an excursion involves getting dressed, driving the distance, buying the ticket and going to the movies, then you and your body are having a new adventure each and every day.
I just drove two whole hours from LA and boy, am I exhausted. By just, I mean last night, but it’s going to take a few days before I’m over my car-lag. I’ll rest a bit now, right after going down to the floor to pick up the pen I dropped an hour ago. And, while I’m down there, I'm going to look around and see if there’s more work to be done before coming up. Is that a card from last Christmas I see in the corner or did I at some point forget a sandwich?
There used to be a time when exercise, hard work and especially running were normal daily functions. Being late meant you had to run, and muscles were there to lift. A full day was followed by a full night’s sleep when the only concern would be waking up in time for another busy day. For several decades, I went through life without thinking of my body and nothing could be further from my mind than the possible toll such activities might take on me.
As I go about the heroic tasks of each day, e.g. washing dishes, doing the bed, or taking a shower, each move reminds me that I am a champion. Did I have the same feedback when I single-handedly dug a new flowerbed in the garden, moved furniture and carried my not-too-skinny babies up the stairs? Did I know what a great job I was doing when I cooked seven course meals for a crowd of more than fifty, not to mention serving, and the cleaned up? Did anyone acknowledge the fact that what I did was way beyond human capacity and that God had created these hands for manicure and not for pealing eggplants? With no medal in sight, I’d like to see the Olympic runners try and keep up with a two year old, yet I ran around for decades and now looking back. . . well, let’s not, that hurts my neck.
I’d love to do a survey of people under thirty and ask them how many times a day the thought of “spine” crosses their minds. Yes, the spine, those little bones that I now need to consult before bending to pat the dog. But I'll bet, with education being what it is, I may hear something in the lines of, “I’d really love to see Barcelona!”
And yet, it is your spine that is going to hold you upright-or not- for the rest of your life. I mean, you call your roommate to ask if you could borrow their hair dryer, yet in an attempt to lift Mount Rushmore, you carelessly tear the ligaments that are the rightful belongings of these little guys without their consent?
It takes decades for our body parts to learn their rights. Yesterday I asked my eyes if they would please read the small print on my prescribed medicine and you should have heard them laughing! Oh, we have so much fun these days, my body parts and I. But I treat them well, talk to them when I rest, ice them when they hurt and give them soothing baths. I even scrub my feet, well, maybe not all their sides, just the parts I can reach.
Fatigue can indeed be a bliss. When you need hospitalization after making dinner for two, when a cup of coffee becomes your sleeping medicine, when an excursion involves getting dressed, driving the distance, buying the ticket and going to the movies, then you and your body are having a new adventure each and every day.
I just drove two whole hours from LA and boy, am I exhausted. By just, I mean last night, but it’s going to take a few days before I’m over my car-lag. I’ll rest a bit now, right after going down to the floor to pick up the pen I dropped an hour ago. And, while I’m down there, I'm going to look around and see if there’s more work to be done before coming up. Is that a card from last Christmas I see in the corner or did I at some point forget a sandwich?
Sunday, August 17, 2008
"Life is a tragedy to those who feel and a comedy to those who think."
Babies laugh before they learn their first words. While everyone speaks with an accent of some form or other and each person has a special tone, it is the common misconception that laughter has no accent.
Wrong! Wait till you hear ME laugh! No, it isn't the "Hee, hee, hee," or the "Heh heh and ha, ha." When you've got an accent as strong as mine, you laugh "Ghah, Ghah," or just "Kerr-o-kerr." So there, I have hereby revealed my true identity. While you get busy looking up those sounds in your Geektionary, I'll try to think of a few lines to help you laugh my way.
This site is dedicated to all who love laughter and shall be the thorn in the eyes of those who don't.
Babies laugh before they learn their first words. While everyone speaks with an accent of some form or other and each person has a special tone, it is the common misconception that laughter has no accent.
Wrong! Wait till you hear ME laugh! No, it isn't the "Hee, hee, hee," or the "Heh heh and ha, ha." When you've got an accent as strong as mine, you laugh "Ghah, Ghah," or just "Kerr-o-kerr." So there, I have hereby revealed my true identity. While you get busy looking up those sounds in your Geektionary, I'll try to think of a few lines to help you laugh my way.
This site is dedicated to all who love laughter and shall be the thorn in the eyes of those who don't.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)