Update on Me

SO, did y’all miss me?

A lot has happened since I got some sleep.  And thanks Kate and Doug, for your care and concern!  It’s true – not sleeping is worrisome.  But since Wednesday’s horrible episode, I am doing a bit better.  Had some troubles last night, but not too bad. 

First things first, I went on a diet.  I know it’s completely vulgar to discuss such things, but as an American, I have been gently reared on a steady trickle of vulgarity throughout my life.  I can see the line, but alas, I knowingly step over it.

And so, my friends, I’m sorry to say so but sadly it’s true: Weight Watchers CAN happen to you.

Well, not exactly W.W., because I didn’t join or whatever, but I’m working a 10 year old program that my mom gave me.  I figure those ladies lost weight on it then, it should still work.  Plus, the one I’m on gives you unlimited free veggies.  This is a Good Thing while dieting.  I cannot be a part of a program that limits vegetables.  I will not; I shall not.

See, I’m going to be in a BATHING SUIT in only 5 weeks.  (Cue the screams of horror.)

I want this:

NOT THIS:

So it’s been dieting and water and green tea and exercise (lots of exercise!) here at Chez MacNish.  (That sounds tasty, doesn’t it?  Like a home cookin’ casserole.  How many points do you think a portion of Chez MacNish would be?)

This time five weeks from now, I will be in Miami, ready to board a sea-faring vessel that will bear my beloved and me (and sister and boyfriend) to various tropical destinations.  Therefore: Extreme Measures.  I hope to be down 10 pounds and be much firmer by then.

In other news not related to my waistline, I’ve been stalled on this new book, and have been really troubled by it.  First, I knew there was a problem with the plot, but I couldn’t seem to fix it. 

And then, something horrible happened: I read a really great book.  Stinking Joanna Bourne and her fabulous new novel, The Spymaster’s Lady.  She just HAD to go and write something totally incredible, and make me completely insecure and unhappy with my work in progress.  Thanks a lot, Joanna Bourne!  I’ll be sure to think of you when I read my sucky reviews on Amazon.  I’ll bet YOU won’t get any horrible, nasty reviews, will you?

Anyway, it took a lot of self-talk (that’s where the rational part of my mind (yes, it’s the very smallest part) echoes in my cranium with such nuggets as this: “You cannot compare yourself to others.  You must work assiduously to be Your Best.” and variations on the theme.), but I am back in the saddle (desk chair) and I’ve got my problem worked out.  Onward and upward.  I cannot be held to Joanna Bourne’s high standard.  Why don’t I just compare myself to Gabaldon or Ivory or Brockway and be done with it, if I’m going to start the self-loathing?

Hey, as long as I’m being vulgar and on the subject of self-loathing and negative vs. positive self-talk, listen to this:

Sometimes, whilst surfing the net in The German’s lair, I heed nature’s call and use his bathroom (don’t tell him).  Well, he subscribes to Men’s Health, which is run by the sometimes misguided but very hot, Dave Zinczenko.

  Dave is always photographed with his shirt undone at the collar.  Good move, Dave!  You know we DO want to see that sexy bit of throat, clavicle, and chest!

Ahem.

October 2007’s issue has an article on how to combat negativity.  It’s a pretty good article: well-thought-out, articulate, and informative.  AND THEN, at the end, the final bit of advice is dispensed:  “Studies suggest you can ease negative self-talk simply by rapidly sweeping your eyes from side to side about 25 times.”

Thus, should you see an otherwise normal-looking person making such shifty eye movements, don’t assume they’re plotting a terrorist attack or have just pilfered your favorite lip gloss out of your handbag.  Perhaps you should approach them with a pat on the back, a word of encouragement, and an ego-bolstering compliment.  NO, they’re not a psycho!  They’re simply taking control of their disturbing thoughts! 

Well done, hot guy, Dave Zinczenco.  Thanks for keeping those top buttons unfastened AND teaching us how better to ward off negative internal messages (and other people, as well). 

Okay.  With all that said, I can move on.

The other great thing that happened to me this week was this:  Whilst I exercised, The German went out shopping for shoes (the man has about fifty pair of shoes/sneakers/hikers.  He needs an intervention.), and he came back with two pair, a new golf club, AND Coco Chanel for ME.

Regular readers will know I have been wanting this for a long time, and he remembered!  The remembering, people, is as good as the present.  Ah, The German….so hot, so sexy, so good in bed, AND so thoughtful.  I love him.

Okay, well I’m off then.  Must work on the book, the butt, and the belly.

At least I smell good.

Insomnia, thy name is Tracy

Okay, so I’m back to not sleeping.

I’m really sad to hear that Heath Ledger died yesterday.  I mean, sure, horrible things happen all the time to people just as worthy and not as famous – I get that.  But still, it’s awful when someone dies so young.  And you know what?  He had insomnia, too (Which has meaning to me, people.  Sometimes I’m so tired I’m tempted to take more than the prescripted amount of sleeping medicine.). 

So anyway, it’s really sad.

And I’m really tired.  I look it, too.  I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, glanced in the mirror, and almost screamed. 

 

Whatever!  I still have to write fiction today, because, duh!, I am a PROFESSIONAL (even if I do look like a zombie).

Can anyone recommend a really good concealer?

Tell it to my trousers

Your Weight is Ideal

Your BMI is 22.6 – a healthy BMI falls between 18.5 and 25 Congratulations, you are the perfect weight for your height. Even though you may not be entirely happy with your weight, you are healthy. So gain or lose a few pounds if you want, but don’t go too crazy! Don’t agree? Blame the government standards we based this test on!

Do You Need to Lose Weight?

Fun With Kwok

Today The German is seeing his elbow doctor, Doctor Kwok. 

And all of a sudden, I am possessed with such envy that my last name is not Kwok.  This is the funnest name EVER.

“Hello, I’m doctor Kwok.”

“Captain’s log: Following a distress signal in Sector 27.9 of the Neutral Zone, we encountered a strangely familiar world where everything becomes oddly illogical.  This failure of logic caused us forgo our shields, and when caught in a tractor beam that drained the dilithium crystals to 5%, we realized we had fallen into the cunning trap set by the Kwok, a race of highly intelligent life forms known mostly for their super fun name.”

“What the kwok?”

Kwok;  slang, v, n, adj; the definiendum of all things cool.

“I could go for some really good kwok.”

K.W.O.K.  Knights With Out Knickers.

A duck walks into a bar with a frog on his shoulder.  The bartender looks at both of them and says, “Kwok?”

“They kwoked under the bleachers.”

“Have you had your Kwok today?”

It’s so kwoking fun I can’t stop.       

   

37 + 1= Blech

I desperately hope that the past two days are not a sign of the year to come.

I needs me some Conan.  He makes everything better.  And besides, when I promised more pictures of hot guys, you weren’t expecting Clive Owen, were you (Megan)?  Baby Tracy is big into Geek Love.

 (I LOVE YOU, CONAN!)

Think Conan would come to my house, rub my aching shoulders, mix me a cocktail, and make me giggle?

A nerd can dream.

January 6, 2008

I am now 37.  So far, it sucks.

Barbies and backstory

The imagination is like a muscle: More use = more strength.

When I’m writing a lot, and deep into the throes of new composition, my imagination really gets fired, and this often results in very vivid dreams (VVD).

One particular case of VVD left quite an impression on me, because it got me thinking about my creative process.  See, I’ve been spending a lot of time lately wondering exactly what this one particular character in my novel really wants.  Which, in turn, keeps reminding me of a VVD I had a while back.  To wit:

I’m in the sort where one buys pools and hot tubs.  I find out that The German has purchased a particular tub, and when I go look at it I find that it’s incredibly small, more a foot bath than anything else.  I say we don’t want it, and the salesmen begins telling me that all sales are final, and if I truly want a different tub, I’ll have to buy a much more expensive one if he’s going to consider breaking the rules.

At this point, I’m just furious, and I spend what feels like ages arguing with the man, all the while being super pissed off at The German for getting us into this predicament.

And then, in the manner of VVD, I am suddenly outside in a parking lot.  It’s very full, and I can’t find my car.  It’s beginning to storm – gusts of windy rain are pelting me, and so I get into this unlocked car, a big old boat of a thing with fins and white wall tires.  The keys are in it, so I decide to drive it over to where I can see a huge open garage of sorts.

I pull in and cut the ignition, and when I get out I notice that the garage is dim and smells strongly of exhaust and rusted metal.  There’s a man in there, and he’s scares me.  Across the way I see a door, and behind me is the parking lot, now being pounded with rain and cold wind.  The man in the garage is coming toward me.  And so, running, I dash to the door and am relieved it is unlocked.  I enter.

Inside there is a cocktail party going on, and no one seems to mind that I’m there, even though no one knows me.  I feel awkward, though, as I realize there is a famous author there.  People are clustered around him, vying for attention and also trying to get him to talk about his process.  I am under-dressed, out of place, unsure of myself.

I move through the maze of people to another room, and in there is a woman on a sofa.  She’s elegant, sipping wine, and smiling indulgently at a small girl who’s playing Barbies on the floor.  Spotting me, she gestures to an empty chair, a silent invitation to join them.

Instead I move to where the child plays Barbies, and I kneel beside her.  I pick up a doll, and notice her hair is snarled.  Immediately, I begin fixing it, an impulse as natural to me as breathing.  I say to the girl, “I used to have a doll just like this one.”

She keeps dressing her Barbie.  Without looking up at me, she says, “What happened to it?”

“Oh, I gave it to my sister after I’d grown up,” I answer, and I remember how hard it was to do that, how it’d seemed like the adult thing to do.  “My sister cut off all her hair.  She didn’t really understand Barbies.”

“What’s to understand?” the woman on the sofa asked.  I looked up at her, and realized she didn’t, either.  For once, though, I wasn’t embarrassed to tell the truth.

“When the other girls were dressing their dolls and making them kiss Ken,” I told her, “I was figuring out their motivation and making up their backstory.”

And this silliness has made me wonder: Was I always a writer?  Is this just how my brain is wired to work?  Or, more likely, does my subconscious just think I’m still playing Barbies?

In any event, my Kens are anatomically correct.

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Tracy’s Top Ten

The best part of a whole, fresh new year is looking ahead, setting goals, and the feeling that it’s all possible.  A whole new year to Get It Right.

And of course, we look back on that old, used-up year and recap.  2007 – you were so cRaZy!

The top 10 sucky things that happened last year:

1. My friend, Brett, died.  This tops the Suck List for obvious reasons.
2. I was diagnosed with asthma, which I take as a personal insult from my respiratory system.  Lungs?  You suck (not enough air)!
3. The tiny wrinkle between my eyes looks deeper.  I swear.
4. The ‘film’ Knocked Up.  Just the trailer is enough to send me into a feminist sweat.
5. I think my eyesight has gotten worse (I’m an asthmatic who wears glasses.  You gotta problem with that?).
6. I didn’t go away over the winter break.  It rained endlessly.  I am of the opinion that if I am to endure such gray, wet gloom, it should be somewhere great, like Scotland.
7. I bought the Betsey Johnson shoes that I was dying for, and they didn’t fit.  I got them in a different size; they still didn’t fit properly. 

  You suck, awesome shoes that don’t fit!

8.  I was at my heaviest for my sister-in-law’s wedding, an unfortunate sight that is immortalized on film.  Forever.  Unless there is a fire.

9.  I was bit by a spider.  Biting spiders really are not very nice to have in your bicycle helmet.

10.  I had many bouts of insomnia, and I think that insomnia really sucks.

Now that we’ve got that bit of unpleasant business over with, let’s move onto the Top Ten Great Things about 2007:

1. My German and my son.  They participated in making 2007 really fun.  Thanks, guys!
2.  I finished a book, and delivered it to Kensington (in NYC – which gets its own place on this list).  If that weren’t awesome enough, it was a combination trip wherein I got to hang out with my friend from Rome.  Bang, Pow, Whap!
3. NYC in the Spring!  NYC in the Summer!
4. I lost most of the weight I’d gained (and would really like a do-over on those wedding pix.  Think they’d go for it?).
5. Golf in Vermont.
6. Lots and lots and lots of hanging out with Tim and Paige.  Perfect meals by the pond, candlelight and music, the sound of our kids playing, sparklers and sprinklers, baseball at twilight, practicing our golf swings, going out to dinner, getting takeout, drinking wine, and laughing.  Lots of laughing.
7. I discovered Somme skincare, got regular facials, and my skin is beautiful.
8. Starting a new book, reveling in that fresh, frantic beginning when it’s all new.  It’s so damn good.  Almost as good as typing The End.
9. Auchentoshan Lowland Scotch.  Excellent, and only $25 a bottle.
10. My German and my son.  They make the list twice because without them there is no list.

So far 2008 looks promising.  It’s an even numbered year, after all, which is pretty cool.  I’ll be married 20 years this September, so I have that to look forward to, along with a wickedly awesome trip to Quebec.  I’m definitely taking my sweet laddie up to NYC for a few mini-breaks.  I’ve got some new friends to get to know, new, silly shoes that promise to fix my back (asthma, glasses, insomnia, and back problems.  I’ve a heart condition, too, if you’re keeping score).

There’s so much to be grateful for.  It’s an embarrassment of riches, really.  I hope you all find your Suck List to be as innocuous as mine (with the exception of the loss of a loved one, of course), and that you all keep aside a bit of time each day to think about how much is good in your life.

OH – and I promise to blog more often.  I don’t know why so many of you are reading my blog, but it seems mannerly that I at least give you something to read.

And finally, why am I not posting more pictures of hot guys?  Let 2008 ring: