I'm in catch-up mode now that the book is done.

Oh, I feel you, Amy. I've been there all week, basically brushing the dust (literally and metaphorically) off of everything. It's like you emerge from the writing/editing fog to discover that the rest of the world has gone on without you and whoops, you gotta play catch up.

Thing about a no electronics weekend? I am going to get shitloads done. Bran muffins are in the oven. Biscuits are next.

I am really hoping that mac conks out at some point and has a nap so that I can pack some boxes or get out the compter and list things on ebay.

I'm having a dilemma about when to leave. I'm going to swing by the library before I go do this volunteering, and I can't tell how much extra time to leave! So then, as I do, I'll just leave now and end up getting there really early. Ah well. Better early than late, I guess.

Thing about a no electronics weekend? I am going to get shitloads done.

My parents don't have wifi, and I was incredibly productive the whole time I was there. A good lesson, if not one I plan to actually, you know, learn from here at home.

My email address got hijacked by a spamming virus. At least two of my contacts thought it was for real; they wrote back congratulating me on my "new business". I told them, seriously? You think I'd send out an email with THAT MANY misspellings and terrible grammar? Who are you, and more importantly, who the heck do you think I am? Good grief.

I heard that Nickleback bleep this week, Amy. So ridiculous! The line before mentions Cheech and Chong. Then all of sudden "smoked" is taboo. Eyeroll. For. Ever.

I'm writing liner notes for two Cheech and Chong reissues. There are so many little bits that I'd forgotten about that I remember leaking out into schoolyard culture. Like, I wouldn't have been able to tell you what was on "Sister Mary Elephant" but once I heard her doing the "Class? Class? QUIET!!!" bit it came back to me. (I'm doing Los Cochinos and Wedding Album, which also have "Basketball Jones" and "Earache My Eye.")

Anyway the point is that I had forgotten that the Bush administration prosecuted Tommy Chong for his line of bongs and put him in federal prison for 9 months. The wild eyed hypocrisy of that just boggles me.

Also, I'll be interviewing him by email so if you have any Cheech and Chong questions let me know.

I have strawberries and spinach and empanadas and a lemon balm plant and a tomato plant. I'm not sure how the last 2 happened. But now I need to go get a pot and some dirt and plant them. I also did laundry.

I kinda want a nap. I should also note I haven't even washed my face yet.

But it is gorgeous out, so I will plant then walk and swim...

The Sudafed hangover has left me completely scattered and exhausted. I can breathe, though, so I suppose there's that. I'm totally not getting the whole tortured artiste thing of the people who think they can't create or let loose of their geeeeenyus unless they're under the influence of something. I mean, I live for those moments when I can completely lose myself in my writing to the point where the rest of the world ceases to exist, but I like being in complete control of myself before I do so.

My psyche, let me show you it.

Those bits were widely quoted in my High School, I tell you what.

I remember being in 3rd or 4th grade and going to visit one of my dad's coworkers with the rest of the family for a cookout, and they were playing "Sister Mary Elephant" on the hi-fi. That was the first time I'd ever heard "Class...class...SHUT UUUUUUUUUUP!!" and we went around saying that phrase the rest of the night.