A Few Disappointments

Christmas morning was great... and Christmas dinner turned out better than I could have expected. The food all turned out well, and making the casseroles the day before turned the whole cooking experience into a relaxed sort of dance. I even managed to play a few Christmas carols on the piano at one point. When does THAT happen?

But then the day turned not so wonderful. We went to see Les Miserables, and the hubby and I were both itching to be impressed. The film did not fulfill my expectations. I can't claim to be devastated, but the director was so fixated on facial expression that he filmed nearly everything in tight shots centered on each actor's face--to the detriment of any cinematography that might illuminate gesture, setting, etc. And his methods for filming meant actors could act--though Russell Crowe decided not to--but only a handful of them actually sang well, and I don't count Hugh Jackman among them. His voice was reedy and annoying, and his rendition of "Bring Him Home" made me positively cringe. Anne Hathaway was absolutely brilliant--truly--and many of the young students and both little kids could also sing--but otherwise the music was gritty and unlovely.

That was not the lowest point of the day, though. My little boy writhed through much of the film, complaining of a stomach ache... which wasn't fake, since the hubby ended up running out of the theatre with him so that he could heave up everything he'd eaten that day. I should have taken care of him, too, considering that I wasn't enjoying the film and I think the hubby was far less exacting than I and had been, up to that point, having a fantastic time.

We made a few hurling stops on the way home, and then my son fell asleep, emptied at last. I watched him overnight, to make sure I was there in case any last bit decided to come up on its own. Nothing did, and this morning he seems okay.

I just hope the hubby finds a time to go back to the movie and see it again--without anything to hinder his enjoyment of the film. Including me. Except for my criticisms here, I don't intend to say a single negative thing about the film to him--especially if he loves it. But I do not want to see it again.

Taking a Break

I have to apologize for the last posting... I was feeling pretty ill, and yesterday my temperature rose above 100 degrees (which means a lot, since it tends to run about 2 degrees cooler than everyone else). It seems I have more than a cold (my husband, of course, suggested it might be swine flu, the dork). 

Anyway, yesterday I didn't do anything. I finished a book (and thoroughly enjoyed it--Gail Carson Levine's Fairest--and I may post on it tomorrow), watched a very little television (why isn't anything ever on?), and generally lay around all day. No exercise at the Y, no obligations except for a bit of work on the online training. 

I'm feeling slightly better today, after spending the night in a coma, but I intend to do nothing again today. The dishes will go unwashed, the laundry will still be in stacks, not put away, toys will remain on the floor, where my kids abandoned them. I'll likely take another nap, and I'll do everything I can to rest. 

What will the break do? Hopefully, I'll get well, and do so faster than I would have if I'd killed myself cleaning up after everyone and running a ton of errands. Perhaps, too, I'll recharge, so that when it comes time to get something done, I'll be able to do it with energy and panache. Too bad it took illness to make me do this (although so far I've lost five pounds this week, so I'm not going to whine about it too much).

Do you need to recharge? How can you do it now, before the obligations that weigh on you make you sick and whiny, too?

Floundering

Oh, I hate it when people ask me how my writing is going lately. Frankly, it isn't, and though I'd planned to do nothing today except laundry and writing, I am now sick with a cold, tired out to the extreme, and I know I am unlikely to write today (except for this blog, and I am forcing myself to write it at this point). 

My online training is fascinating, but it still isn't writing, and now I'm using it as an excuse not to write (in lieu of housework)... I suppose my question is, why on earth am I putting off writing? I have always loved writing. It's always been something that motivated me to bounce out of my bed in the morning (even at three in the morning, sometimes), something that I couldn't wait to do, something that urged me to hurry through the clothes folding, the dishes, and even do so with a smile on my face, knowing once the chores are done I get to work on what I really love.

So, why don't I love it right now? What's wrong? Why do I put it off?

What do all of you think? Today would be a great day to write, since I just want to snuggle up in a blanket and work on the computer... what might I do to motivate myself to get going? I've put off writing long enough.