Edgy Mama

There’s going to be a lot of me in tomorrow’s Mountain Xpress, Asheville’s weekly alternative newspaper. Luckily, there will be no photos of me. Although I’m a little hurt that they didn’t want any photos of me. Even though I’ve gained five pounds. Which is probably why none of the other Asheville bloggers want to see me naked.

Really, I’ve got to stop eating or something. That’s at the top of my to-do list. Stop eating. What’s up with me gaining five pounds before my high school reunion, which is in mid-October? I’m supposed to lose five pounds, before I gained five pounds, which makes the math really suck.

No, I haven’t been blogging much, but I’ve been writing like a fiend. I promise to get back to you with more bloggie goodness soon. One of the problems with being a freelancer is that you’re always pitching story ideas, and then when editors say “yes, great idea, and here’s your deadline,” you say, “Hurrah” until you look at your calendar and see that you already have three articles/columns due that same week, sometimes two on the same day (today). And then you scramble. And you run around all day doing interviews and taking photos and making phone calls and waiting for sources to call you back. Then you write all night. And you hound your braintrust friends to edit your stories, and say, “Can you do it like right now, pretty please? Because I need to turn it in before I take the kids to swim lessons and cook dinner and pretend I have a life away from this laptop.”

Then you have a week where you get pulled over by the cops twice in one day, on the day before you have an appointment at the DMV to get your stolen driver’s license replaced. And you end up with only one ticket, but it’s a “you must show up for night court” ticket, even though you’ll probably get off because your record is as clean as the inside of your washing machine. Because you haven’t been pulled over by the po-lice in 22 years, and how they managed to find you twice in one day is just beyond comprehension.

And then you wrench your back. Getting out of bed. Which reminds you that you should not get out of bed on Sunday morning, ever. No, no, no. But the drugs are working. Kind of. Except at the end of the day when you’re writing furiously to meet deadline. And wanting to say “hi” to your bloggie buds.