I’m anxiously awaiting the delivery of the newest “Minnesota Sporting Journal” issue. Before you see my excited gob holding up the hard-copy (since, no doubt, I will take photos), check out the winter issue here. It just became available to read online.
My article’s on page 13.
Once a month I have an “Uptown Writers” MeetUp. [I] [II]
I created it about six months ago to help writers create a writing habit (and stop procrastinating).
I created it for myself.
Today there are 52 members (6 Facebook group “likers”), with ten members actively supporting each other/paired up with an accountability partner. This may not seem like a lot, but I think this progress is awesome.
We went to Gigi’s again. I ordered a mushroom pizza (I give it a 6.5 out of 10), and an arnie palmer (and boom, I’m suddenly parched as I think about it). I paid with cash since my roommate just gave me her portion of the bills, and somehow, I’m afraid (so afraid) that I lost a $20 bill. I went back to the counter after I set my stuff down, and eyeballed the tip jar like a freak, checking to see if I accidentally stuck a $20 in there.
Anyways, I didn’t take any photos of the group (crappy phone and complete strangers), but Instagram does provide some evidence.
See, an arnie palmer.
…Four writers showed up tonight. One writer writes every morning at 5 a.m. before work. He has a six-month-old baby, and a full-time job. And he writes every morning. If that’s not motivation to get writing, I don’t know what is.
When I got back to the apartment, I tidied up the MeetUp page a bit. It’s amazing how much the group format and structure has changed since that first meeting: evolution!
Initially my sister and I were going to go thrift shopping after she got off work. Only not a lot of places are open on Sundays. So, naturally, we went out for sushi instead.
And again, naturally, we forgot to take photos.
So here are a few car snapshots that were taken before I jumped out onto the icy sidewalk, and ran back indoors to my blanket and couch.
(We went to Wakame in Uptown. They have happy hour sushi and drinks until 6:00p.m. We got there at 4:30ish, right before a huge rush of people.)
I went to a networking event after work.
I brought the unbelievably awesome Angela Halgrimson. She’s a children’s book author. She just won a Mom’s Choice Award, just sayin’.
This event was put on by WIN, and it had wine and chocolate. (Did you know, that it is perfectly reasonable to eat large amounts of dessert in place of dinner?)
And I’m only now coming down from my sugar high.
I’m not sure if I was in an extra good mood because of Angela (and the wine and candy), but the night was a blast! Everybody I met was giving off positive vibes, and I honestly felt that I walked away with friends and not just potential business connections.
My friend Vanessa recommended I go to Dick’s Last Resort. I think I’ve been there once before, but that was back when I had blonde hair (aka was a prude).
I thought I could hold my own this time, and maybe not blush down to my toes.
You see, the wait staff are jerks. People seriously pay to be made fun of. You have to wear this diaper hat that says offensive things on it too. And normally it’s a blast (if you’re with the right people)…but I was still sick. And after two days of “lame” activities,” I forced myself to keep this date.
You know when you realize half-way through a joke that you’re telling it wrong, but it’s too late to stop, so you just keep plowing ahead, knowing the punch line is going to be filled with your uncomfortable laugh, or if you’re like me, an awkward noise? Yeah, somehow accept that as an explanation to how I felt all night. Like I was telling a bad joke.
And my hearing was still all weird from “the illness,” so I couldn’t hear half of the insults. I just kept an offended frown on my face, you know, so the wait staff felt comfortable.
Worst of all…WORST OF ALL, my card got declined.
At Dick’s Last Resort.
A restaurant where they are paid to be ass holes.