I'm writing this late on a Sunday night, at the end of what may have been the most relaxing week of my life. I didn't do anything. Really, almost anything.

I wish I could say I felt profligate with relaxation, but honestly it was pretty necessary. There was the grueling schedule JJ, Shar and I kept from September 1st 2008, with an average of fifteen emails and five articles written every single day, seven days a week, and an average of covering one game or event, every single day, with a grand total of eight days in that span on which I didn't write or cover anything. Sure, there was that--but I'd kind of gotten used to that, and to squeezing in work on my novel and freelance gigs in the cracks. But two Sundays ago was meant to be kind of a resting point, with all the high school and college teams done for the year, and not much to cover.

Instead, we launched another redesign on that Sunday, which required a shocking amount of unexpected work and stress--to the extent that for the first time in my life, I got a stress rash (on my belly, thanks for asking). On top of that, last Monday I had two deadlines I wasn't expecting, one for the Onion, and one for a short story submission. So the week I thought I'd spend relaxing I spent covering things, fixing the site, holding down the fort (JJ's in Virginia, which makes sense sine they are both for lovers), and working on those two other projects. And of course I got sick.

So last Sunday I stayed up till 6am, after covering the Special Olympics (and interviewing Misty May and Martin Sheen!) all weekend. That day I got home, wrote 3,000 words on the SO, watched the Lakers win their 15th championship with my family (which gave me a needed boost to push through the whole being sick), then went to work on the Onion submission (which I finished around four in the morning), then immediately jumped into finishing, proofreading, and editing the short story I submitted to a local literary journal (Like Water Burning).

Needless to say, I've been too terrified to review either submission...

So--after I finished I slept until I woke up. 13 hours, pretty much slept through the day. And each night since I slept till I woke up too, probably about ten hours of sleep, which feels ludicrously good after averaging five or six for the last nine months. The days were spent falling in love with David Foster Wallace, picking at my novel, playing a ton of video games with Shar, hanging out, napping, watching movies with Shar, seeing friends, etc. In other words, it was more or less exactly how I've always spent the middle week of June, probably going all the way back to first grade.

Now, it's back to work! I've got to put in about six hours a day on the novel to get it finished by next weekend, which I'm desperate to do because I'm hoping to leave the laptop at home when Shar and I got to Mammoth! Wahoo! Still, the week looks open for blogging, so I'll try and throw a few stories and updates up.

Hope everyone had a good Father's day, and that no matter what your schedule is, you're finding some ways to enjoy the onset of Summer.

Labels: Generalness, the weatha

It's weird. It's really, really weird. I actually can't remember the last time we had a late May/early June like this in Long Beach, with the clouds hanging around all day, the marine layer refusing to unlayer itself, unpredictable winds and chilly nights. And, maybe because it's not actually severe at all, or maybe because everyone's talking about it, it's easy to forget: this is weird.

In a world where the streets are paved with bad omens, where perfectly rational people seem excited about the possibility of the world ending in three years (as though life really meant that little), where doctors are shot for performing legal operations and North Korea refuses to stop building nukes, IT CANNOT BE A GOOD SIGN THAT IT'S OVERCAST AND CHILLY IN LONG BEACH IN JUNE!

Don't get me wrong, ill omens aside this is actually the kind of weather I prefer. Yes, it's nice to not have to break out the Gold Bond for another few weeks, and it's nice to be able to wear pants without sweating through them, but...I'm used to these things. They are familiar, easily dealt with annoyances (ie, the Gold Bond). But, with a hammock slung up and a BBQ area on the new patio, arms open and ready to greet the summer, our work for the year seemingly behind us, we're instead getting lightning and thunder.

The strangest thing is: it is still supposed to be Summer-y. I go outside with no suntan lotion and no hat, forgetting that the sun is high enough in its rotation in early June that I can still get a sunburn from just the thirty minutes it's actually out. All those little comforting annoyances are right there, under the surface, waiting for us to get back to them, if only we could burn off this fat, obtrusive gray blob that's making everything a little darker.

There's a metaphor in there somewhere. Gimme a call if you can dig it out, maybe I can find a use for it somewhere.

New stories and that update comin' soon y'all.

Labels: Generalness, the weatha