Blogger Brainstorms
It’s 2:42 pm Friday as I write this, embedded in, well, my actual bed/desk with my 85-pound yellow Lab curled up beside me, because baby, it’s COLD out here in the suburbs of New York, a positively balmy 19 degrees. If all goes well, you’ll be reading this post Saturday morning. Notice the “if” in that sentence. Because I woke up today with every intention of writing my Saturday post, Friday being my work-at-home day. But first, life called.
I don’t do mornings without fueling myself with multiple cups of caffeine (only the high test stuff for me). Then I have to do some research about what’s happening news-wise in the world (i.e. Did Rosie and The Donald kiss and make-up while I was busy slacking off (um, sleeping) last night? And how is it that Mary Kate O thinks that it’s her hair that makes her look too skinny? You know, the hard core news topics). Then I field a few frantic voice mails from one of my offspring who needs an emergency infusion of funds. Then it’s time to alphabetize my spices. And Google an old crush. And, well, you know how it goes when you’re procrastinating (we creative types like to call it brainstorming).
By 12:30, I finally push myself onto the treadmill stationed smack dab right in front of the TV, to do a little multi-tasking and watch the new iVillage TV show (which, as I write this, has not yet called me to appear on a guest spot; hello, I am right here…). I watch Molly help make a scrumptious-looking strawberry-and-rhubarb pie. I calculate I could have four bites of it if I stay on the treadmill straight through ‘til “Oprah” airs at 4:00 pm. I decide it isn’t worth it.
After iVillage Live! signs off, I catch a half-hour of some riveting “Lifetime for Women” movie already in progress in which one of the Baldwins acts exceptionally creepy and stalks an innocent suburban mom and basically tries to ruin her life. It is so good/bad that I actually stay on the treadmill for another 15 minutes to see if the Baldwin brother worms his way into the blonde mom’s shredded life by offering to help her gain custody of the little daughter from the marriage he had helped detonate (he does).
And now, having spent some extra time on cardio AND finished this post, I am feeling exceptionally virtuous. So, next stop the kitchen, where I discover we're out of strawberries and rhubarb. No biggie. I'll just substitute the bite-sized Three Musketeers bars and ghost-shaped marshmallow Peeps we have left over from Halloween. (That's what we writer types like to call artistic license.) Oh well, the treadmill isn't going anywhere. But I guess I am – back on it tomorrow.
