End of the work week. Almost. A few hours at the studio. A haircut. Perhaps a pedicure. Time to get rid of the blue toes. It was an interesting experiment, but I felt like I was impersonating a fifteen-year-old.
Two parties and some prep work for my trip to Vancouver next week (hi Kate!). The Giants are done, but I am not quite done with them (more on that later). I fret a little about Brandon Belt, Ryan Vogelsong and maybe Andres Torres (don’t know why). Two days later, still loving my Kindle. Though I did spend some time fretting about my neighborhood independent bookstore. And my boyfriend, Obama. I fret for him as well. Things aren’t going so well for him (or us). I’ve reserved a small about of fretting for myself. This is not an easy time to be self-employed in an industry that is changing faster than, well, faster than I can run, or type, or something like that.
I’ve been thinking about September 11, of course. How I sat in front of my computer at the studio and worried that my daughters would grow up in a country/culture/world motivated by fear and hate. And that has been true and troubling to me.
Fretting won’t fix it, any of it, I know. So I will pick out a more tasteful color for the pedicure that may or may not happen, and get on with the business and pleasure of life. See you all on the flip side. Hopefully unfretted, rested and ready for what’s ahead.