My fantasy did sort of happen. No, not the one where ex gets run over by a train, or the one where ex begs me to take him back, or the one where Matt Damon calls saying he read my story and wants to turn it into a movie. The fantasy where the CEO, in this case just the Director of marketing, sees my copy for AOL and asks, "Who wrote this?" in a Judy Garland/get me that girl kind of way. It didn't result in a full-time job, but it made me feel happy. (Y'all can pick yourselves up off the floor; you haven't heard me say happy in--what?--ever.)
I watch two and three-quarter DVDs last night: The Switch, Venus, and The King's Speech. All good. Reviews up on the public blog soon.
In my quest to torture, I mean enrich (I was going to do that odd blog conceit where the writer strikes through words. Have you ever seen that anywhere else besides blogs?) my children, I'm taking Mario to see Smuin ballet. Alvin Ailey would have been a better choice but it was four times the price and in Berkeley. Mother of the year award: it's not even my weekend with the boys.
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validation is not necessary for survival, but it helps...
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