Waste
Yesterday, I had a good day. I slammed out six pages of the new beginning to "Sheep's End". I need to refine them and weave them and their implications into the rest of the script, but I went to bed with the feeling that I'd accomplished something. That's an important feeling. It's the lack of that feeling that played a large part in my decision to leave grad school.
Today, I wake up, answer the overnight e-mail, read the paper, and sit to work. A half-hour later, Child Two calls me from school. Today is her class seder and she didn't bring her required seder plate. She needs it by 2:15 in the afternoon.
The school note that she needed that stuff for today is on the fridge. I spend more than two hours boiling eggs, gathering ingredients and making charoset. (The charoset needs to be nut-free for school, so I used a dollop of tahini instead. I don't recommend that substitution as the tahini adds a touch of bitterness, which is unpleasant in taste and ceremonial meaning. I sweetened it to acceptability with brown sugar.)
I had to go shopping for some of the items, and then drop the package off for her at school. The operation consumed three hours of my day in total.
So I sit here, back home, at 1:00. I have some assignments to correct, which should take an hour. I have to leave to pick up the kids at 3:30. Tonight, I play hockey.
I get 120 minutes to work today, figure 90 minutes after I write this blog entry.
I'm not a sprint writer. I'm a marathoner. I can't sit and write in half-hour bursts. I need to get in the mood and let it go, for hours at a time. I'm feeling stressed, put upon. It's manifesting as a roiling sickening in the pit of my stomach.
And outside, it's snowing. It was 20 degrees (Centigrade) Friday, and today it's snowing. The snow is melting, not accumulating, but still.... Welcome to spring in Montreal.
Bonus first rule of Pillow Fight Club:
It is to talk about Pillow Fight Club (but privately).
London had hundreds of people bashing each other with pillows outside St. Paul's. San Francisco had thousands of people in Golden Gate Park bashing each other with pillows on Valentine's Day. For more information on Pillow Fight Club, check out Wikipedia.
For more information on Montreal's impending flash-mob pillow fight, e-mail me for time and place. I think I'll bring the kids.
Today, I wake up, answer the overnight e-mail, read the paper, and sit to work. A half-hour later, Child Two calls me from school. Today is her class seder and she didn't bring her required seder plate. She needs it by 2:15 in the afternoon.
The school note that she needed that stuff for today is on the fridge. I spend more than two hours boiling eggs, gathering ingredients and making charoset. (The charoset needs to be nut-free for school, so I used a dollop of tahini instead. I don't recommend that substitution as the tahini adds a touch of bitterness, which is unpleasant in taste and ceremonial meaning. I sweetened it to acceptability with brown sugar.)
I had to go shopping for some of the items, and then drop the package off for her at school. The operation consumed three hours of my day in total.
So I sit here, back home, at 1:00. I have some assignments to correct, which should take an hour. I have to leave to pick up the kids at 3:30. Tonight, I play hockey.
I get 120 minutes to work today, figure 90 minutes after I write this blog entry.
I'm not a sprint writer. I'm a marathoner. I can't sit and write in half-hour bursts. I need to get in the mood and let it go, for hours at a time. I'm feeling stressed, put upon. It's manifesting as a roiling sickening in the pit of my stomach.
And outside, it's snowing. It was 20 degrees (Centigrade) Friday, and today it's snowing. The snow is melting, not accumulating, but still.... Welcome to spring in Montreal.
Bonus first rule of Pillow Fight Club:
It is to talk about Pillow Fight Club (but privately).
London had hundreds of people bashing each other with pillows outside St. Paul's. San Francisco had thousands of people in Golden Gate Park bashing each other with pillows on Valentine's Day. For more information on Pillow Fight Club, check out Wikipedia.
For more information on Montreal's impending flash-mob pillow fight, e-mail me for time and place. I think I'll bring the kids.
posted by Webs at
12:50 PM
2 Comments:
Okay, fine. I might be tipsy at pillow fight, though, just so you know.
as for the stress manifesting something ugly in your gut...well, you said it. don't give yourself an ulcer.
...just a concerned student looking out for her prof.
oh and i have a question. how do fruits and nuts represent clay or mortar (and cinnamon represent straw) in haroset!? how does that even make sense!? I never questioned it as a kid but seriously...that's weird.
m
The fruit and nuts are in charoset to make it sweet and pasty. Refined sugar was rare until modern times. Most sweetness came from honey or fruit - and you can include another fruit product, wine, in that.
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