Things have been so busy around here that I’ve completely forgotten to savor the perks of “get shit done” mode: actually getting shit done. Wednesday seems like a good day for accomplishments of all sorts.
Two weeks’ worth of belated bragging, in no particular order:
- signed my book contract (finally!!)
- handed in 21,600 more words to my editor at HarperCollins (that makes 2/3 of the book drafted)
- sat in gum (and didn’t cry)
- removed gum with citrus oil
- investigated the potentially spider mite-like red bugs on my tomato plants with exceptional calmness
- pulled off our second successful Brooklyn food swap (BKSwappers) over the weekend with my friend, beekeeper Meg
- potentially found a venue (or two) to host the breadmaking for beginners inspiration party
- had two friend dates, one involving laundry and tacos (and ice cream and coffee) and the other involving sneaking out for prosciutto before serving tempeh and rhubarb preserves to a bunch of Hungry Filmmakers
- pickled cukes (from Florida, yeah, I know not in season, but at least in this timezone) for the first time. And, it. was. so. easy. No waterbath processing, just two quarts popped in the fridge after boiling the brine
- got accepted into Robert Hass master class (poetry workshop) happening this weekend at Poets House
- completed two surprisingly involved grant reports amidst book deadline chaos (remember, just signed my contract, so—ahem—income isn’t exactly coming in, yet, still working all my freelance jobs.)
All work and no bragging makes me a harried, frazzled girl. Tell me some thing(s) you’ve needed to brag about.