But Call Me Betsy

Had my last first writing class Tuesday night and we talked a little bit about how people get unstuck from writing--like how you might write yourself into "a pickle," as the teacher put it. Someone suggested writing dialogue; someone else said to go back to description. I did a little writing this morning (revisions of the story are due next week) and realized that when I get stuck (at least during revision), I tend to go back into the story and find a specific paragraph that needs work and go with that. Or write something ridiculous. Or write a different ending. But the truth is that I'm so rusty with writing that I'm not quite sure what it is that works best. I think I've found a different ending to the story I'm working on--one that doesn't tie up so neatly, but gets closer to the core of the matter, I hope. I had a moment the other day where I was walking on this really windy day and I had left the house feeling relatively cute, but then a huge gust of...

Nothing is better than a rainy Monday, unless you can also have a rainy Monday where your entire body is eclipsed by an umbrella. I realized this morning that I left my normal-sized bumbershoot at work and so was forced to use the one given to me by Drexel. Here is about how big it is: It looks like it should be accompanied by a set of four patio chairs. I felt like apologizing to everyone who crossed my path as it required them to skirt to the edges of the sidewalk to avoid being gouged. However, I arrived to work completely dry. Took 2 yoga classes this weekend at Sweat. The one on Saturday was taught by an older woman who warned us ahead of time that she had a cold and so would not be touching us much during class. Yet somehow, she managed to put her hands on all of us. She asked our names at the beginning of the session and then referred to Jen and me throughout most of the class. "Jen, watch your arms. Jen, take a wider stance. Aimee, please stop falling over..." I...

Because of the rain, I rediscovered my orange rubber Steven Madden loafers and they are much cuter than they sound. Plus, they make really awesome squeaky noise when you walk. Sometimes, I pull together an outfit that sort of accidentally works but then I usually forget it. I need a Polariod. Small note about cat, promise not to go into any detail: This morning, Ernesto discovered my blush brush. He grabbed it out of the make up bag, jumped down on the floor, and then laid on top of it as if trying to hide the brush. I retrieved it. He did this three more times until I had to hide the thing. I told you he is gay. Molly went with me to pilates last night and did very well. The instructor is this girl who has the slender body of a willow tree and she has long blond hair and a pretty face. She's about 22 or maybe younger. She announced in class yesterday that she's getting married this summer to her fiance, who has been in class before. He is a tall, broad shouldered boy, also blo...