A few weeks ago, DH and I went to see Sara Bareilles in concert. She performed at the Austin Rodeo, so instead of having another band as her opening act, there were rodeo events instead. All the different events – calf roping, barrel racing, and such – looked hard, but the big one – the one with the real tough guys – was the bull riding. To get on a huge angry beast that has horns and try to stay on it while it tries to buck you off so it can kill you – that takes some cojones, man!
Oddly enough, I was getting ready to leave the house this morning and I thought of that bull riding contest. For the last three weeks or so, I think I've felt almost exactly like one of those guys sitting on the bull's back!
Does that sound melodramatic? Of course it does. But after telecommuting and doing various writing projects from a home office for the last nine years, I decided that in order to keep my publishing company in business, I was going to have to accept a job that requires me to work in a downtown office. It's just a temporary job, and it's a great one at that – I'd be insane to complain about getting paid lots of money to write, just because I have to leave my house to do it.
In addition to the job, I've done so much in the last few weeks. I have, for example, visited my relatives in Arkansas (and attended my uncle's birthday party). I've also managed to snag a couple of truly awesome Louis XIV-style chairs at the Round Top antiques fair, which I attended weekend before last. I've found a cover-artist for The Art of Effective Dreaming, which I can now (woohoo!) afford to pay for – a much better solution than futzing around and doing a half-assed job of it myself. I've tested "Dreaming" on the Kindle and it works, so I think we'll be good to go with an ebook version as soon as I can get the paperback version of the book released. I've found the perfect Badgley Mischka dress for my brother in law's wedding in August and the perfect pair of Manolo's to go with it (you know I keep my priorities straight).
So, you see, this isn't really a whinge, it's more like a "Whoa Nelly!" while I hang on to the bull.