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The freelance life...
Jul. 3rd, 2016 11:20 amI had been looking forward to, later today, dropping by Dromgoole's—a store here in Houston devoted to fine writing and stationary over by Rice Village—on the occasion of an Independence Day event, but got my days and dates mixed up.
Silly translator.
The event was held yesterday—or so I was informed this morning by a pen acquaintance of mine who attended—and apparently, a good time was had by all (with the beer, burgers, and pens).
Drat.
Anyway, I got to within 300 words of my translation goal yesterday before shutting everything down and "turning to" and trying to go to sleep. Driving a stake through the heart of those 300-some-odd words might have made sense in another context, but not last night. Some goals are important; others, not. I've paid my dues; I know the difference—'nuf said.
I said "trying to go to sleep," because it was past midnight before I actually did fall into the arms of Morpheus, and I slept fitfully, rising at around 5:30 this morning. (I don't set my alarm for the "#0445club" when I go to sleep so late; there's no percentage in it, unless a deadline is breathing fire down my neck.)
For the second day in a row, Galina and I went over to Jardin del Mar, a small beach on Galveston Bay that is owned by the City of Pasadena (where we live). The beach—mirabile dictu—is friendly to dogs as well as people, so we took both Shiloh and Thumper with us.
Hilarity ensued.
(Not really, but everyone got through it okay.)
I tried Snapchatting as I walked up and down the sandy shoreline, and apparently, was able to save some videos. ("Walking while Snapchatting," by the way, is loads harder than "walking while chewing gum," but I digress...)
I've got 2500 words or so on the plate before I hit today's goal. Then—and maybe only then—I may be faced with a day largely free of obligations.
Cheers...
P.S. I sat down in my recliner around noon and promptly fell asleep.
P.P.S. 5:30 pm: The translations require despeckling, but they're done! Ha!
Silly translator.
The event was held yesterday—or so I was informed this morning by a pen acquaintance of mine who attended—and apparently, a good time was had by all (with the beer, burgers, and pens).
Drat.
Anyway, I got to within 300 words of my translation goal yesterday before shutting everything down and "turning to" and trying to go to sleep. Driving a stake through the heart of those 300-some-odd words might have made sense in another context, but not last night. Some goals are important; others, not. I've paid my dues; I know the difference—'nuf said.
I said "trying to go to sleep," because it was past midnight before I actually did fall into the arms of Morpheus, and I slept fitfully, rising at around 5:30 this morning. (I don't set my alarm for the "#0445club" when I go to sleep so late; there's no percentage in it, unless a deadline is breathing fire down my neck.)
For the second day in a row, Galina and I went over to Jardin del Mar, a small beach on Galveston Bay that is owned by the City of Pasadena (where we live). The beach—mirabile dictu—is friendly to dogs as well as people, so we took both Shiloh and Thumper with us.
Hilarity ensued.
(Not really, but everyone got through it okay.)
I tried Snapchatting as I walked up and down the sandy shoreline, and apparently, was able to save some videos. ("Walking while Snapchatting," by the way, is loads harder than "walking while chewing gum," but I digress...)
I've got 2500 words or so on the plate before I hit today's goal. Then—and maybe only then—I may be faced with a day largely free of obligations.
Cheers...
P.S. I sat down in my recliner around noon and promptly fell asleep.
P.P.S. 5:30 pm: The translations require despeckling, but they're done! Ha!
