And they said my time off from work wouldn’t be productive! Hah!

Well, if they had said it they would have been wrong. Look what beauty I can — wreaght (what on earth is the present tense of “wrought”?) — with only 20 minutes, a few magic markers, an old pair of sneakers, and a high tolerance for marker fumes! See how original and edgy I shall be from now on, wearing my one-of-a-kind-creation and giving no thought whatsoever to the fact that verily, I am a married woman of 26 with an honest-t0-goodness job and have no right to be coloring in my shoes like an urchin! A very cool urchin.

Anyway, apart from several volunteer gigs (I’m going to help set up a stage for a the-AT-trical perFORmance on Saturday!) and a whole lotta reading, the truth is I haven’t been all that useful or creative. However, today something happened that gave me fresh hope.: I read five or six truly dreadful short stories by Diana Wynne Jones. I mean, they were awful. At first I couldn’t bring myself to admit how stinky they really were, because I love her and I very much wanted to enjoy the beautiful hardcover copy of her book that I had spent sixteen hard-earned dollars on — but then I realized it was actually a sign. A sign that I really am allowed to produce reams and reams of dreck when I write, and that whenever I think, “Gosh darn it, this story is really quite putrid,” I can then cheerfully think, “But not as putrid as the stories in that book by Diana Wynne Jones, each of which she somehow convinced an editor to print — and none of which prevented her from going on to write and publish far, far better things.”

Of course, this was a truth that I had already known. I know it’s just dumb fear and laziness that keeps me from writing, and I know that at least the fear is something I can overcome. But it was still nice to get the message from good old Ms. Jones. Thank you, dear! Thank you for sometimes being a terrible writer!

In other news, my sister doesn’t know it but she’s about to become a guest contributor. I wanted to share with you the following extraordinary list (almost McSweeney worthy!), from her last email to me:

Words Asher can pronounce with little to no garbling:
Mama
Daddy
Bird
Dog
Book
Papa (grandpa)
Por Por (grandma)
Nai Nai (gabe ’s mum)
Jie Jie (gabe ’s sis)
Door
Bottle
Car
Go
More
Yes
No
Bath
Duck
Play
Plane
Poh Poh - Hippo
Bear
Ball
Bowl
Gone
Nani (aunti Perjaiji chose to be called that)
Nana (uncle Praji chose to be called that)
and much more!!

Words Asher is pretty sure he can pronounce but really everyone else is just humoring him because he’s so darned cute:
Fow wah - Flower
Ra Ra - Laura
Ti - Auntie
Chee - Tri
Pattle - Apple
Pittle - Hospital
Nah more - no more
geh down - Go down
Mang - Fireman
Bung - Bang
Kung - watering can
Moo - Moon
Tah - Star
Bah moo - Balloon
and LOTS MORE.

That’s my boy! He is so going to be a leximaven when he grows up.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a second shoe to beautify.

P.S. Sorry I haven’t replied to your email yet, Rani. I promise a response won’t be long now that I’ve shamelessly exploited it for my evening’s entry.