Channeling The Smiths this morning and every morning of late – trying to squeeze time out of this dried up fruit I call a life. I want it to flow – or at least dribble – but instead it’s been cut up and dehydrated and locked up in a plastic bag for consumption somewhere down the road. Presumably when I’m on the top of a mountain after a long hike, which may seem convenient and perfect but when we’re talking about needing/wanting/clawing for time to write, the top of a mountain is less than ideal. Where’s the wifi and the power outlet?

I want to dump out everything that happened this weekend onto the page before the details slip away, but the forecast is calling for piles of shit to do and little time for that one thing I need to do.

The summary is that the show went well and I was humbled and Godsmacked by the amount of support and love shown by friends.

Before I start whining and blithering about what’s coming up, I need your help. The Mc and I are leaving on (an internetless) vacation on May 9, and I need book recommendations again!

On the list: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (thanks to SI and CM). What else? Preferably nothing too terribly meaty (though I imagine I’ll get something else by Anne Lamott, LOVED Traveling Mercies).

I could use more reccos along the lines of Eat, Pray, Love or even The Sweet Potato Queens Book of Love. I need happy (not morbid ala laughter Augusten Burroughs) with a twinge of deep.

Whatcha got?

Running away to be with some lakes this weekend.

It’s sure to be a photo orgy/gluttonous nomfest/stimulating and healing conversation weekend and I can. Not. Wait.

I suppose it’s the rise and fall of social circles as we age: the introduction of puddles.

How exactly does one get rid of a puddle?

It’s not the kind in your boot exactly, from when you were a wee tot and enjoyed nothing more than going in the ditch so the water crested the top of your wellies with the red bands rounding your calf. When you’d squish about with all that water oozing between your toes in your socks that you KNEW your mother would just shake her head at but was there anything better?

No no.

The kind I mean are the shallow ones you can’t run fast enough to get away from, but they inch after you like a baby seal after a poacher: begging to be clubbed.

I need more lakes. More deep, life sustaining, inspirational, sit on its banks and let it be your muse lakes.

Wandering off the path I’ve found a few of late. A few I plan to visit with more regularity and more freedom to wander and wonder and let myself be taken over by. Lakes I can put my boat in and float and know I’ll be safe and see magical wonderful things…but it’s still hard to walk away from the puddles that hunger for your attention when you can hear them calling after you begging you to splash around in them just one more time.

Barely posting these days because I always seem to be running around shooting something or having dinner with a friend or organizing a tweet-up or picking up cat food or meeting with MetBlogs authors or planning my trip to Ireland.

The Mc is out of town, and I had last night to myself…it would have been perfect for reading a book or writing, but instead, I was catching up on email, watching the train wreck that is American Idol and stewing on something I haven’t found the words for yet. Enh. Maybe tonight.

Practicing…shooting athletes.

Practicing…using my flash off camera with an umbrella in commander mode.

Practicing…pulling over when I see something I like and trying to trap it forever.

Practicing…playing with Lightroom.

I’m supposed to show at an exhibit during the Castleberry Art Stroll at the end of April…and I…uh. Kinda forgot. Haven’t picked a shot, etc. Whoops.

It’s a longshot, but in an effort to make things terribly easy on myself and pass the work of to someone else, do you have a favorite you’d vote for?

Help a sister out.

I never ever ever post from work but this time, I can’t help it. It’s all I can do not to run a lap around my building right now (which, btw, would hurt like hell given the state of my boob)

For those of you who are not following me on twitter or my friend on facebook, I just got the call from the Dr. – I’m free and clear! Back to the old every 6 months routine unless I find something else funky in the meantime…

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!