Oh, and I'm a Former Olympic Gymnast

by Barbara Poelle

I had a tête-à-tête with an editor yesterday where I asked for a thing or two and she replied something to the effect of, “Why yes! You can…..IN OPPOSITE LAND.”

Later that day -as I am sure happens to all of you- through a series of wacky tomfoolery, I visited a wizened fortune teller played by a wonderfully garbed Jamie Lee Curtis who told me to beware of wishes made under a broken moon. That night, at a restaurant called Luna Del Mar, I dined with publishing friends and I retold the tale of Opposite Land and how I wished we could all live there for a day. At that very moment, a light earthquake shook the area and a loud craaaack was heard. We all raced out to the front of the restaurant to see that the neon sign had cracked down the center of a half blinking blue moon. I thought nothing of it, finished my cosmorita, and headed home to slumber.

This morning I woke up at 5:45 a.m. and ran a quick 10K. I could have run a bit longer, but I wanted to take a moment to clean up some of the dog dookie my clearly overworked neighbors left within a 2 block radius of our apartment. (I am always happy to pick up the feces of someone else’s domesticated animal, even though stepping in it does make me giggle so!) I made myself a breakfast shake of a freshly squeezed melody of broccoli, cucumber, radish root and ginger juices. I then decided to surprise Husband by scrubbing out the oven and running the vacuum before I showered and changed into something office appropriate that in no way shape or form resembled something a homeless person would wear to their own wedding.

When I arrived at the office, I noticed they had (finally!) replaced the espresso machine with a soygurt dispenser.  My colleagues had all arrived early and we hugged it out for a bit before heading to our individual offices.

I wasn’t surprised to see that my literary fiction THE ART OF ART was getting several offers. It is a Flemish retelling of The Pied Piper which alternates passages in Old English in the second person narrative, and I am pitching it as a common man’s treatise on the impending financial overthrow of government by the amassed proletariat.  The lowest bid is 200K and so I ignore it, but I do tell the highest bidder that the author is very amenable to adding a dog.  We are all aware it may sell less than 100 copies, but genius like this should be paid what we deem its mental worth is by a series of agreed upon algorithms. [Like where x= the appearance of two or more characters with intrinsic pop culture value, like Lorenzo Lamas and the crazy pony-tailed saxophone player from that one scene in the movie The Lost Boys.]

My desk is pristine and the jar in the corner is filled with goji berries and I munch a handful as I wonder why anyone in their right mind would distill a potato for any reason.  Janet Reid calls, her voice a melodious sing song greeting in my ear, and I take a moment to comfort her at her lack of sales for the last 26 months and assure her that something lovely will come her way soon. I then confirm my racquetball court time and drop an email to Amy Lindel letting her know that the same rule stands: we play for fun and we never ever keep score because life isn’t about winning.

My last call of the day is at 4:55, as my work day ends at 5 as if dictated. It is Golly Zoot reminding me that we are cooking for our husbands this weekend in our monthly pot luck and that the theme this month is “Moroccan.”

I head home and spend two hours preparing pasta from scratch to serve to Husband with a crystal flute of sparkling grapefruit juice, and then it is time for poetry reading and an hour of meditation. 

So, what did Jamie Lee Curtis make YOU do in Opposite Land today?

 

 

Comments

[Linda Leszczuk]

I jumped out of bed, rested, wide awake, and eager to face the day. But the shock of it was so great - even in Opposite Land - that it broke the spell.

So I went back to bed.

[Sandra Tow]

I jump out of bed, energized, refreshed and ready to take on the day. My fingers and brain, in a coordinated effort, type out 5,000 words of brilliance before I leave for work. My girls are dressed and smiling by the time the smooth, Kona enlightens my tongue. And finally, my husband is waiting patiently in the car for me-not revving the engine and pointing the his wrist. Opposite Land? I don't think I'd know how to react.

[Sarah W]

I slept in until almost seven, until my well-groomed and dressed childen woke me with breakfast in bed, leaving me to eat while they cleaned up the kitchen.

On my way to work, I received a call (which I pulled over to answer) that my agent had just sold my already-written eleven book series to Prestigious Press for three times what that nice Nigerian official deposited into my account last week for safekeeping (I must remember to write him a nice thank you note).

I think about retiring from my day job to write full-time, but I'd miss interacitng with the public and my professional wardrobe. Living in sweats and red plaid flannel jammies is far too decadent for me.

Work was pleasant and stress-free. All the questions made sense and all answers were found in the first resource I touched. No one complained about the speed of the computers while Debbie Does Decatur streamed in HD on their workstations. It was such lovely weather that the director let us close an hour early. I took the ten minute commute home through construction-free streets and an uncongested bridge.

After a lovely dinner, cooked by my husband and mother-in-law, I loaded our brand-new dishwasher while my older daughter practice her piano without reminders. My children finished their homework while I cranked out the first couple chapters of book twelve---these zombie pirate political satire romances just write themselves, don't they?

The family went for a walk to pick up trash along the road, but there wasn't any.
We stopped off at the ice cream place. I decided against having a pumpkin shake in favor of a honey-sweetened, soymilk carrot smoothie. Beta carotene is much more important than flavor and texture to me.

After the kids bathed and fell asleep, all by 8 pm sharp, I blogged about important, relevant things and shut off my Netbook about nine, forgetting once again to check my stats. Oh, well.

I retired early with my husband, who had decided the playoffs were a waste of his time. We took turns reading the good bits from the Count fo Monte Cristo and drinking filtered water out of champagne flutes until the scene blessedly fades to black.

[Tracy Kiely]

Keigles

[LaurenDeStefano]

Opposite day was awesome. I didn't worry about anything, or email you, or stumble through the rooms of my apartment, holding my cat like a ragdoll not bothering to wipe the snot from its Ginger fur while weeping into the crown of its furry head.

Then my mother came over and we talked about our feelings, which, it turns out, are so alike that we finished our conversation over Ben and Jerry's ice cream in the park. Then I went to bed promptly at 9 PM and had no trouble sleeping, because the herd of insomniac pachyderm in the upstairs apartment had also retired to their sleeping chambers.

I was happy to wake up the next morning, though, in a lake of my own drool and tears, and dodge the puddle of cat puke on my way to find my laptop and write you a neurotic email about my fears of failure as an author and a human being. The email ends, as always, with my pleading for you to never dump me as a client, and my promising to do something more respectable with my wardrobe the next time I'm doing anything businessy with my publisher. Turns out I actually like my life this way. I get more writing done.

[barbara]

Ladies and gentlemen SANDRA TOW! And please, you know you make everyone give you 100 push ups in the morning regardless of what Land they are in.

[barbara]

Seriously? Please. Even in Opposite Land I would get at LEAST a text. Maybe it would be a smiley face. But I would get one.

[schreck]

I'm sorry to be off topic.

I used to have a thing for Jamie Lee Curtis.

The sexy short hair, the lithe tight body and that confident sense of herself. Man, the cougar-esque potential.

Then she became the spokesperson for "Regularity."

C'mon JLC! Talk about phoning it in! I mean it's constipation it's not anything even anything honorable. You probably coulda had the Boniva gig instead of that whiny Sally Fields and even that woulda been better.

It used to be I'd drift off at night with a vision of Jamie in that True Lies scene in the black underwear and pumps. Man...

Now my mind sends intrusive thoughts about exactly why she's gulping down Activia with a big smile on her face. Instead of a come hither glance I see her take a spoonful, see her eyes roll back in her head and I know not to get between her and the powder room door.

Is the constipation gig cash that good?

Really?

There had to be a Lifetime offer on the table for some sort of budget Mariska Whatshername type role or something, didn't there?

I mean, commercials are easy and the cabbage is good but was this how she envisioned her career arc going.

Geez...

Why not cut back on the velveeta, the Jif extra chunky and work in some whole wheat?

[barbara]

Wow, Schreck. I hiked you the ball and you ran with it...to Cleveland.

[schreck]

did I spell lithe right? Was that the right word?

I love that word.

[Sandra Tow]

You got me! I even make my trainees at work give me a hundred. You should hear them whine to the union. Just kidding!

[Maria]

But it was seriously funny. And he has a point, a very valid one.

[Josie Brown, author, Secret Lives of Husbands and Wives]

I'm in London this week. That is half opposite from SF, and full opposite from NYC.

Your best line:"... changed into something office appropriate that in no way shape or form resembled something a homeless person would wear to their own wedding...""

Um, no: it was "...these zombie pirate political satire romances just write themselves, don't they?"

Okay, maybe: "...Janet Reid calls, her voice a melodious sing song greeting in my ear, and I take a moment to comfort her at her lack of sales for the last 26 months and assure her that something lovely will come her way soon..."

Heard the belly laffs all the way on this side of the pond!

xx J

[Adam]

On opposite day what I did for money and what I did for personal satisfaction were one and the same.

On opposite day I didn't feel the urge to check email between each and every successive breath.

On opposite day Janet Reid sent me a revised email offer. I got to her second paragraph, responded, "This is where I stop reading," and suggested she try again, after she worked harder on her use of white space.

On the day after opposite day, I will feel mortified that I made such a comment.

[Avery Aames]

Opposite Land. Do I love this! In opposite land I didn't answer any of the texts or emails that "needed me" because I needed me first. I didn't write a word. I didn't think about writing a word. I didn't think I needed to social network because what's the fun of it...I mean, really? I didn't twitter...or tweet...or even think about tweeting. I drank plain water all day instead of wine because water is so much more fun, isn't it? I didn't laugh because sobbing is well the opposite. I didn't read. I didn't enjoy.

Oh, wait, I hate opposite land. At least most of it. I like the real thing. I like whatever we have to go through. I like to live real, talk real, think real. And I like to be present.

But this blog post made me laugh...I mean cry. Oh, what do I mean. Just the opposite, I think.

~Avery