Having a lot of chores beats the alternative: terminal tedium. I’m a third of the way through the late Michael Crichton’s Pirate Latitudes, a neophyte’s self-published novel, and James Ellroy’s American Tabloid … I write our church newsletter and am slogging through a draft of the annual report, hoping to get this off to layout in a few days … I really want to begin researching American drinking habits in pre-Colonial days. (By the 1790s an average American over 15 years old drank just under six gallons of absolute alcohol each year.) … There’s an intriguing new writing prompt up at Every Day Fiction (These teasers are like putting jet fuel in my Zippo.) ... I need to brave the frigid attic to dig out a book that has a map of the Nabateans, Judeans, Samaria – crazy little kingdoms it would be good to know more about.
However … I did blog some new material about Holling and Lucille Holling working on a hotel mural in 1929 and illustrating a series of Indian postcards in 1941. (More on this archeological ephemera at http://hollingcholling.blogspot.com/) … I spent too much time today responding to a high schooler wanting to interview me on the King Philip’s War paper he’s writing … I framed one and hung two pictures today … sent a short book review to the Asbury Park Press … continued waiting with bated breath for two stories to be published.
But the quotidian chores interrupt. Out with the garbage, in with the mail. Time to eat, time to sleep. And if I forgo the cocktail hour then I figure the terrorists have won.