Off The Cuff

I never just blog.  I always write blogs ahead of time, edit them, cut, paste and post.  So this is new for me.  I had some interesting thoughts earlier today while walking the beach.  I hope I can remember a few of them. 

One was the number of people who ignore you when you say “hello” or “good morning.”  What’s up with them?  It’s sort of bizarre.  When did we become a society where a simple courtesy such as returning a greeting went out of style?  I don’t get it.  The majority of other beach goers NEVER initiate contact.  For some of them, it’s all they can do to nod or smile.  The only person who greeted me first was an older lady walking slowly with a cane.  She said good morning to me before I said anything to her. 

The beach is interesting to me.  How it’s always sort of the same, yet it changes constantly.  Today the surf was rolling in and water was high, so I’m assuming it was high tide.  You’d think after living close to the shore all these years I’d know.  Instead, I just assume.  There wasn’t a lot of dry sand like there usually is. 

Earlier in the week when I walked the beach I passed a guy fishing.  Kind of a big guy, fishing near a couple of other guys, also fishing.  On my way back I passed him again and he spoke to me, but I didn’t catch it, so I turned around and he repeated it in an accented voice.  “Exercising?” he said.   I said, “Yeah, well, meditating.”  Because the pace I walk the beach could hardly be called exercising.  I kept walking.  He says behind me, something like “you’ve got a nice shape” or something like that, that I also didn’t catch.  So I turned around and said, “What?”   And he did the universal sign with his hands for “nice shape.”  Even now it makes me laugh. 

It makes me think of how easy we women denigrate ourselves.  A guy might actually think we have a nice shape, but all we see is the muffin top or the too-heavy thighs and flabby biceps.  We’re probably much less critical of a guy’s shape than we are of our own.  They’re not perfect either, you know.  No one is.

Back home I’ve decided to start writing down what I eat because frankly it’s out of control.  I’ll take a page from Bridget Jones’ Diary, date, weight, and everything I put in my mouth that day.  Carbs.  Carbs.  Carbs.  Why do I crave carbs?  And why can I take the healthiest things in nature–like an apple–and dip it in melted brie and brown sugar so it barely resembles the low calorie healthy snack it started out to be?

I’ve also been told by the tax experts that I should document the time I spend writing.  I never thought of that.  Oh my gosh, what if I’d documented the time I’ve spent writing for the last almost 20 years?  Would it make me feel even worse than all the stacks and stacks of unsold or “needs some work” manuscripts that clutter my closets?  If I equated it into actual time, how much would it be? 

The only saving grace there is that I gave up so quickly on getting any of them published until the last few years.  By the time rejection letters rolled in, I’d moved onto another story.  I was too happy and too busy creating to ever worry about selling what I wrote.  Plus, I didn’t need the money, so what did I care?

But now, I sort of love taking those old manuscripts out and seeing if they’re fixable.  That’s what I spent four hours working on today.  An oldie entitled SCATTERED MOMENTS.  My gosh, I started that when we were building our house!  That’s where the idea came from.  I look at the old files I saved.  Some date back to 1996.  Others to 1998.  I’m pretty sure I know where I went wrong with this one.  I’m pretty sure it can be saved.  I’m pretty sure it’s a viable romantic suspense.  So stay tuned.

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