Just when I thought the doldrums of revisions and heavy edits were about to pull me down forever into the nebulous, swirling morasse of writer-tude, I had two of the most unexpected and thrilling surprises this weekend.
It all began with a voicemail. (Note the hook of a beginning and immediate pull of this tale)
A girlfriend of mine with whom I roomed together in grad school and who now lives on the East Coast and I haven't seen for more than half an hour in the last eight years called to tell me her company was sending her to Tulsa - honestly, what are the chances? - on business. Even better, I happen to live in a suburb of Tulsa.
I picked her up from the airport last night at 10 p.m. and then we spent most of the night chatting. It was so much fun. I'd post pictures, but we looked like zombies this morning. The older you get, the worse those late nights are on appearances. Ugh. So, I'm posting a picture of what I fell like on the inside, but that the bags under my eyes and wan color of my skin may actually be kinda masking.
Now, if that wasn't thrill enough, my husband agreed to go clothes shopping for our daughters with me. For anyone whose husband has a phobia about malls, this is really close to miraculous. Not only did he agree, he suggested we go shopping for them. He said, brace yourselves, he thought they needed clothes. I checked to make sure I wasn't stuck in edits and had revised my husband into saying that.
No, he'd said it. He'd suggested. And he was ready to go shopping. The surreal events didn't end there. He helped find - dare I say it - clothes on sale. The man willingly and of his own accord went through entire racks of mark downs all by himself.
I am...sniff sniff...so loved.
So there's my weekend in review. Monumental. It's all gravy from here.
Imposters: Scott Westerfeld
1 day ago