I’m in one of those moods, where I have a to-do list and an action plan, but then I just kind of peter out, getting lost in the details and distraction of it all. I’ve been toying with the idea of teaching a writing class at Hofstra University, close to where I live. They’re asking me for the blurb description of the class, so the spring course listing can go to print. Only it’s a big commitment. I come alive and truly love helping people with their writing. It does not, however, help me with my own writing. Oh, you’d think it might. But, it just doesn’t. It’s like seeing the glaring problem in someone else’s relationship; it never ever helps you in your own life. It’s not my rule.

I’m on the fence about the class because on the one hand it will open me up to new experiences and people, engaging my mind, pushing me into new territory… needing to know how to cut people off when they ramble off topic in class, etc. But running a class takes a lot of prep work, especially with regard to what will be discussed each class. I like the idea of a topic for each class–something to keep in mind while reading the class-submitted work–as we workshop the class pieces. This does thrill me, but. But it takes time away from my own writing. I work really well when I’m in a workshop, when I have pieces due to a class. I spend the week working, making really thoughtful replies on the work of my peers, but it does swallow up a lot of my time. It’s not as if I can workshop my own work in a class I’d be teaching, as I’m being paid to help critique their work and not the other way around. So, I would need to teach a class and also take a class/workshop, which would amount to a lot of work. Still, I think the biggest struggle, quite honestly, would be finding a babysitter! If I knew I had a babysitter for two nights a week, I’d be able to take and teach a class. But with traffic being so unpredictable, Phil is never sure when he’ll be home exactly. I won’t even consider taking an online class. Not an option, not helpful, defeats the whole purpose. I’d take a class populated with other published authors, so I could rely on the advice. This is actually my first priority. I am going to sign up for one, and we’ll figure out the babysitter thing afterward. This has to happen ASAP or it will never happen.

I have kid birthday parties to which I must RSVP, gifts to then buy and wrap, phone calls to return, emails to return. A car that needs servicing. A husband who needs servicing (still couldn’t tell you the last time we did anything even approaching sexual). Dinner is a whole topic onto itself. Nightmarish, actually. I hate dinner time, which is so very like me. I cannot work now because there are piles of homework on kitchen counters, sandpaper letters strewn about, laundry to be sorted, and there are fall clothes that need to be purchased, mostly for myself at this point. I don’t have a fall wardrobe, and I hate the idea of just buying random pieces as I find them. I want to set out and build a proper fall wardrobe with a total of 10 exceptional pieces that just work together. They should sell this, as a basics kit. A cozy slouch cashmere wrap, leather-like legging, a combat boot, girly silk button-downs. I’m freezing lately, all the time. My circulation sucks pudding. I can’t work right now because my bedside table is unruly. So, now I’ll sign off and clean, then bitch about how I didn’t get any work done because I was too paralyzed, deciding for which after school enrichment class the kids should enroll. I thought a Lego’s class sounded fun, but I called to inquire, and they said in other school districts it’s the post popular class, but in Jericho, they’ve never had anyone try to enroll… all the parents are dead set on sports in this town. If I were a kid, I’d want to Lego class, too. It’s what Lucas wants, so I just have to hope there are other kids who’ll sign up, or else the class will be a no-go.

I realize this post is ass-tastic. I have nothing good to say because I am cranky and unsettled and cold. I need to go burn a candle and snuggle with girl movies on in the background, with cider reducing for a demi-glace, as I write about crackling fires built from within.