Post Holiday Bloat

I'm fooded out. Too much food is the diagnosis. Spicy food. Rich food. Desserts loaded with whipped cream and sugar. Even the thought has me cringing. I may never cook the Big Feast again. Just tasting the progress of everything on the stove and in the oven sent me into food-overdose. Can't even look at the leftovers in the fridge.

The only solution is shopping, right? All that walking. All that standing in line, it'll get rid of the extras in my system, I hope. Did my best this weekend to stimulate the US economy, but I don't think the jiggle in my wiggle was affected. Sigh. Time for severe austerity in the kitchen.

I really do believe all that food affects my brain. I go into this semi-awake state where every thought is an effort. Maybe it's because all my creativity heads for the kitchen? Recipes are my favorite reading? Whatever it is, the brain has to get back in shape along with the derriere. Time to give it some exercise.

Only solution: WRITE!

Time

In the background, I hear the Rolling Stones shouting "time!" At least, I think it was the Stones. I was more of a Beatles fan myself. In comparison to the Stones, the Beatles wore white hats and were squeaky clean. Although I have to admit, I want to read Keith Richards' biography, just to find out exactly how "stoned" they were. Quite a bit, is my bet.

Anywhoo, I have a new watch. A very pretty new watch. I love timepieces. Collect them. All types, all price ranges, all sizes. However, for a few years now, I've been leaving the wrist bare in an attempt to wean myself away from time: Its permutations, its limitations, its demands. I can function without one pretty well but recently, I've missed the watch as jewelry. So now I have a lovely Seiko I really really like. But am I checking the time every five seconds? I don't think so. Time is just a number. Like any other number, it only has the power you give it.

We're surrounded by numbers. Social Security, age, weight, blood pressure, deli counter lines, height, birth order, IQ and whatnot. Ignore them. They're nothing but a shell game. Who and what you are has nothing to do with time or numbers.

Christmas Shopping and oh my....

Couldn't believe it. We went Christmas shopping yesterday, instead of plunking ourselves in front of the next-to-the-last race in Phoenix. Got home in time to see Denny Hamlin fade to 12th because of fuel issues, (bet he stayed awake last night thinking of new curse words), but didn't need to suffer through the whole ESPN/Commercial show. The only good thing about the race is that JJ didn't win.

I'm out of shopping shape. Sigh. This morning my body said "what did you DO yesterday?" This may be the year Christmas comes from online vendors, LOL. Normally I've done a ton of our shopping by now, but not this November. It's hard to admit, but I'm pretty stumped. When the kids were young, Christmas was so easy it was a ton of fun. How hard is it to open the American Girl catalogue? Ah, for the good old days...

Writing is the one sane part of my day. For those precious hours, I don't worry about what to cook for Thanksgiving, when to get the Christmas decorations from the attic, or if the iPad's second generation is worth waiting for.

Cockiness, or What it Takes

Denny Hamlin is on a roll. He makes promises about his on-track performance, then he goes out and does exactly what he said he'd do. Cocky? Yeah, I'll buy that. Convinced he's a winner? You bet. Arrogant? Comes with the territory in a world that is drowning in testosterone. But you know what? He's a believer. In himself. And that's what it takes to get to the top in the jungle known as Nascar.

You can't win the Cup by saying "we're pretty good," or "the car's real nice today." Pshaw! Phooey! Let your opponents in the Chase know you've got the right stuff and you know how to use it. In this contest, the man who's got his head where the Cup is waiting, is the man to beat.

You can't write unless you believe you're a writer. You can't tell stories others will want to read unless you KNOW they're good. Man up. Grow some. Use your talent to do what you know you were born to do, and write, write, write. Set a goal: win a Pulitzer, make a bestseller list, go viral on the Web. Then go for it with dogged determination and the guts to know you're the best and you'll make it.