My Life Needs An Invisible Upgrade, Typepad...Can You Help?

Let's face it. Compared to the average kid in Africa (and thanks to Madonna and Angelina Jolie, even complete celebrity sluts are learning more about that), my life doesn't suck at all.  It is abundant and magnificent. We have our health, our home, our dog.  I am drinking coffee I made from fresh-ground beans, from water I can be reasonably sure is clean. (Right, New Jersey?)

But.

This year has sucked. 

Yes, I am a glamorous author of two pet books.  But publicizing the book has been hard work.   Don't get me wrong: there is nothing like seeing your name in print. There is nothing like having  the nice woman who works at your gym say, "Are you an author?"  I've loved doing radio shows, TV, newspapers.  I've gotten a positive review in "The Bark," the New Yorker of dog magazines.  But there's a gazillion books out there, and I've had a lot of life going on, and I haven't been able to give it my all.

Herewith, my Jobish tale of woe.

My mother-in-law died after a struggle with cancer.

We (husband, dog, I) moved to Boston for a job that did not pan out.

We moved back.

Husband is still looking for job. (I am gainfully employed with people I adore...but it is anxious there, right now, and I feel all the stress and more.  On the other hand, right outside my building, I saw Jay-Z once. Smiling. He has a beautiful smile.)

Husband broke ankle Labor Day weekend.  So I've been solo on: dishwashing, laundry, chores, food shopping, food preparing, nursing (mostly wrapping his ankle) and...oh yeah, dog walking.  Exhausted does not begin to cover it.

Miraculously, despite shorter walks (I have to go to work sometime,) our dog is at her optimal weight. Not so miraculously, I have gained back all the weight I took off just before I started writing the book.  Brownies have been my reliable friend.

Things could be worse. In fact, they were, between 1984 and 1985.  But that is another post. In the meantime, I have lapsed into the New Age version of myself, writing on slips of paper, "I release this terrible year," ripping them up, and hoping that things shift.

So, if anyone's reading this, send me a good vibe.  I know things could be worse. For most of the people of this world, they actually are.  At the moment, knowing that does not help in the least.

Comments

[Ellen]

Awesome. I'm still swimming in it. Rock fucking on, Dems. Take this country back!

I'm reading State of Denial by Bob Woodward. Stunning. If I didn't have the election results to feel good about, I think this book would make me catatonic with despair. Bunch of idiots in charge. Truly.

I hope your life is smoothing out. :-)

E. R.

[Martha Garvey]

Thanks, lovely Ellen. I thought of you as I was going through this!

How 'bout this post-election high, eh?

[Ellen]

I'm thinking of you, sweetie. My husband had a foot injury this summer too, and I drove him to and from work for months. I became a commuter on his behalf.

This too shall pass, but yeah, it sounds like you've had a long year. Well, an election is going to change all our lives very soon. That's something to look forward to.

:-)

Ellen Rose