First and foremost: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIANCA! And, um, I’m really sorry if I woke both you and your husband up this morning. I was a little excited about wishing you a happy birthday. Whoops! I hope you have a great day. You deserve it.
Moving on, I have to say I’m amazed by the volume of comments about yesterday’s entry. Body image has always been—and will probably continue to be—an issue for me, and most women. I don’t think it’s something you ever really outgrow. But I loved what someone had to say in a comment about being a “work in progress,” because that’s as true as it gets. There is no forever, as we know, one moment when everything is suddenly perfect and stays that way. As a writer, I always think of works in progress in terms of potential: when I’m writing on a novel, I have good days, and bad days. Days that I think my story is incredible, and days when it’s the worst thing I’ve ever written. The important thing is to embrace it anyway, day by day, and eventually it becomes exactly what it needs to be. I guess a body, and a soul, is the same way. I hope so, at any rate.
In other news, thanks to the person who warned me that the Gilmore Girls episodes on ABC Family are not always in order. I settled in last night to watch the one I’d recorded on my Tivo that I thought was the first one from season four, but when they showed what had happened on the previous episode, it was NOT the last one I’d seen. I was so unsettled, I can’t even tell you: I’d missed major plot points! So I went to the official site, only to find that yep, they were showing them out of order. And I just decided I wasn’t up for it. I’ve gotten so spoiled, with the DVDs. So I’m just going to wait until the end of September, buy season four on DVD, watch it, and then jump full in with the new ones. I’ll be behind two seasons, sure, but something tells me someone—or many someones—would be happy to catch me up. Let’s hope so.
(I swear, that’s my last Gilmore post. I know there have been a lot of them lately, and for those who don’t watch it, you probably feel like I do when people won’t shut up about Desperate Housewives, or Lost. It’s just become kind of an addiction. Maybe there’s a twelve step program I can join? I’ll look into it. I’ll NEED it, since I have to wait until September 27. That’s ages! Bring on the serenity prayer.)
In other news, I am trying to teach Coco to lay down on command. She can sit, but when I try to pull the treat down, and say DOWN, she just looks at me, as if I’m up to something and also cruel, since before sitting was all she had to do to get what she wanted. Meanwhile, Monkey hits the floor automatically, then lays there drooling while she stares at me. Where’s Cesar Milan when you need him? It is a hard concept, I guess. But I know she’ll get it eventually. She’s a work in progress, right?