Yesterday I had a Facebook conversation with a published writer friend, whom I asked for advice about writing.
"Write a book," said she. "Or just write."
"But I'm like, really busy," said I. "I mean, seriously. You have no idea. I have nine kids. That's right in between eight and ten. I don't have the time."
"There was a famous French writer who wrote fifteen minutes a day in the time it took his wife to prepare dinner. In one year, he had a novel."
"So, you're saying I need a wife? Cuz I haven't had reason to look, but I think my doctrine could have a problem with that...also, my husband. And what was this French lady preparing that only took fifteen minutes a night anyway? Were they having cold cuts every night or something?"
"I think you should go back to ballet," she answered. "And stop putting so many photos on your blog. And arrange your thoughts better, you ramble. Can you be more concise?"
So then I poked her mercilessly and sent her really annoying FB game requests and random suggestions of friends she doesn't know. Not really. And she didn't say that thing about the ballet. Mostly because she's smart enough to know that I no longer fit into the pink tights and even if I were to fit into the pink tights, the world is not ready to see the result. Also against my doctrine is pink tights.
Speaking of which, some funny bunny shrunk all the pants in my closet again. I'm considering possibly maybe purely hypothetically buying Jillian Michael's Shred DVD and going on a diet. This is the part where you all talk me out of it. That's why I have you and I don't ask much, just a trifle; send bigger pants.
Also, I thought of dvr-ing some yoga or pilates programming on my TV, but I kept scrolling through the whole menu a squillion times last night and I couldn't even find the right channel. I'm sure out of my wealth of channels to choose from, there's got to be a Fit Living, or Health Network, or Get Skinny, Chubby channel, but I couldn't find it for the life of me. I kept getting distracted by the Food Network anyway. And the Cheezits crumbs were messing up the remote. So, I gave up.
Really, I'm not kidding around here, send bigger pants.