Hmmm . . .

I used to blog under the name “Grumpygirl.” It was hardly a nom de plume; I never kept secret who I was. As I mentioned in my first post, that blog was locked down during the recession. I am trying, now, to resurrect her voice. Certainly, I never have trouble finding the right voices for clients. Here? I’m a little blocked.

Otherwise, grateful it’s finally warm and I’ve pulled out my Marimekko Chuck Taylors, and can finally open the windows!!! (But what is it with these women in NYC who all winter don’t wear socks and have bare ankles? Aren’t they cold? Is it because I’m old and cold all the time??)

Spent yesterday at the non-profit. We need light bulbs, and Post-its, and a Poland Spring dispenser, oh my. Computers there are donated PC laptops without hard drives, so I’m lugging my extremely heavy 2014 Macbook Pro with me every day. I dream that a Macbook Air will drop from the sky. Other than that, I’m loving my days there.

Yesterday I started weaning Pru off the steroids, which is terrifying me. Again, she remains happy and cheerful and tremendously enthusiastic: I was awakened to her in a crying frenzy over the weekend; one of those scary hairy centipedes was running along the ceiling. This isn’t the first time—I beg you to tell me where they’re coming from, please—and each time she sees one she goes batshit.

Signing off to find my voice . . .


Blogging, Part Deux

I really hope this post lands where it’s supposed to land; WordPress is new to me and the point here is to brag incessantly about myself while learning WordPress in the process.

Another day of job-hunting. Have you done this? It’s exhausting. Deep into your bones exhausting. I need a job because I will otherwise go totally insane.  I’m tired. I want to watch TV, a lot.  After answering my daily dozen job ads I went for a walk. It’s gorgeous out there, who knew? I forget there’s an outside when I’m hunched over the computer inside. All of a sudden I don’t need a warm coat, and I took some Instagram pics in Windsor Terrace.  Then yoga tonight, praise all that is holy. My amazing yoga teacher,  Elias, is in Mexico running a yoga retreat I’d kill to be a part of. So we have a sub teacher. She’s nice, but she’s not Elias. Still, it’s good for all that ails.

Blogging, Day one


I haven’t blogged in ten years, and the last time it ended poorly. (Understatement… Said blog is on lockdown over at BlogSpot.) But, that whole “if at first you don’t succeed” thing, and here I am.

New gig is exciting! I’m doing creative–writing, editing, art direction, anything else that’s creative–for a We help other nonprofits get donations by making them a tangible gift.  So instead of donating XX dollars in your friend’s name to, say, Heifer International, you can donate a specific item. Like a goat. Or a flock of geese. And instead of a boring form letter telling your sister, for example, that you’ve made a donation in her name, she’ll receive a gorgeous gift card telling her exactly what she’s been given; perhaps it’s Polio vaccines for ten children in need! This non-profit “changes” how people donate. It’s interesting, and I’m jazzed about new challenges.

It’s a calm Sunday here, after a tumultuous Friday. Prudence, the feline who owns me, had an asthma attack. Had no idea cats could have asthma. Terrifying, her heart rate was sky high, and I rushed her to the vet when I noticed her breathing was off. They examined her, sent her for x-rays and then two shots: cortisone and a bronchodilator. While she was still being monitored after the vaccines, the vet came to talk to me and show me the x-rays of Pru’s little lungs. At this point, I got lightheaded and white as a sheet and needed to sit down. Usually you wait for your pet in the front, but they suggested I stay in the exam room. Then the vet techs asked me if I wanted a glass of water (I did.) Two days later, on steroids, Pru sleeping upside down next to me. She seems no worse for wear. I still need to breathe in a bag.