What should she be doing right now? Anything but what she’s doing. What is she doing instead? Surfing. What is she surfing? Oh, Golden Globe attire. She could be researching xenophilia (her latest listen on CBC radio) or brainstorming short story ideas or reading a book. Something that might cause her brain cells to fuse or expand or multiply. She’s heard they do that when carefully nurtured. But nope. She’s staring at Marisa Tomei. What was she thinking asks the fashion critic, making a spectacle of herself in those frilly sleeves. Yeah, Marisa Tomei. What the hell were you thinking? But Isla Fisher, you were gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. So says Christopher Turner. And he would know.
Her surfing morphs. She finds herself perusing yoga schedules. She is looking for a class she can cram into her schedule between clown rehearsals and the standing bounce. Oh, la, la. A 6:30 am class at Singing Lotus. Fitness Yoga. Downward dogs for fitness before the sun comes up? Her aspirations are great. By the way, when does the sun come up these days? She should go to bed early and find out for herself. The baby is asleep, the bibs are laundered, this is the moment to slumber. But she can still see Kate Winslet’s strappy sandal. It is whispering come hither from behind the twenty TextEdit windows she has open. How is she supposed to tear herself away from this Golden Globe goodness? The perfectly coiffed locks? The creamy skin? Kate Winslet’s sandal?
Not to mention the pleasure of generalized surfing.
She can feel her brain cells being obliterated with each click.
2 Comments
I’m doing pilates at singing lotus. It’s a great little place. One of the instructors, Sara, is an actor I worked with last summer.
I am equally guilty as I sit in my office on my prep and instead of marking, because I’m just so freakin’ tired of marking, I’ve been on Facebook…but that brought me to you here…so that can’t be all bad!
love Nat
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