(As an immediate aside, I once wrote that as a greeting on a sales-y email that was supposed to come across as casual – and would have in California – but was taken as the height of sloppiness and ignorance. See, I worked in this office which prided itself on “casual” and the owner routinely said things like, “We’ll get eyeballs on your ads”. I mean, c’mon people! You’re probably wondering how I found out about said “slight” and the answer is … ta da! … the business wrote and ripped a strip right offa me. It was brutal trying to explain something that should have been obvious, at least I thought so! Also, lesson learned and I never used that greeting again, except when I leave a voicemail for my family, who all understand it’s not in the least bit disrespectful. I mean, seriously, you could get stopped by the CHP and say, “Hi guys” when you open the window and they wouldn’t bat an eye. Ugh. But I digress.)
So, over on my Twitter today is #pitmid which is just a way of pitching your book to agents SUPPOSEDLY. I mean, I don’t know of anyone who’s gotten an agent this way but I had a dream…
In my dream, I’d sent my manuscript to 5 publishing houses – as in the snail mail – and got back two huge envelopes with notes. Both rejections but one of them was really glowing and seriously did a fantastic editing job. I was thrilled that they’d actually taken the time to read my book! So, I’m hoping it’s prophetic. A girl can hope.
We are heading into my favorite time of year (Yay, Fall!!!) but first, we need to get through the worst transition, according to my asthma and allergies. Fall is HIDEOUS for breathing. So, last night I took my first Singular of the season and it knocked me out! I woke up at 9am and fell back asleep, which I have NOT been doing lately – and woke up again at noon. What the heck?
If you haven’t heard the saga of my hair yet, stay tuned. The rest of you may move on to the next paragraph. Okay, I hate my hair. I haven’t hated my hair like this for years. Months, maybe. Okay, days. My hair is troublesome. Thin, bendy (not curly) and now a rusty red on top. I bought a hair dye that turns hair metallic silver – you know, to match with my actual metallic silver hair around my ears and neck – and then got too chicken to use it when I read you shouldn’t on dyed hair. IMPORTANT NOTE: Can someone PLEASE remind me – the next time I do something stupid like talk about dying my hair – that I’ll hate it? Please? Also, if you remember, it’s all chopped off, around the bottom. It kinda looks like a bowl was put on top and cut around it. I don’t blame the stylist, who was (and is) going through a very traumatic event, though I wish he’d have asked me to come back another day. This is just unacceptable. I can’t tell him, either, because of said-traumatic event. He’s very vulnerable right now. I think it might kill him. Seriously.
So, I’m pitching my book here and there, applying for jobs and thinking about dying my hair to get through the transition back to natural. I may want to decide before I head to an actual interview. Chubby 60-year-old with three colors of hair and, okay, excellent credentials = Oh sorry, no can hire. You go away now.
Aside from that, I’m getting my new calendar 2020 ready for my purse. I am that person who has every ding-dong thing listed in that book, including (but not limited to) anything anyone would want to know in case of an emergency. Meds list? There. Cat’s names (they’re alone at home! Go get them!)? Check. Every family member I know? Yep. My husband was laughing at me last night – in a nice way, of course – about how very detailed I am. I mean, c’mon, if something happens to us, who will know our cats are at home alone? Whoever has that calendar – THAT’S WHO.
So, what’s up with you today?