This weekend I was supposed to take my wife and two kids to a mountaintop family resort  in Banning, CA for RV camping, fishing, barbecuing, hiking, and playing in the snow — man-made snow that they were having trucked in. But my wife broke her toe, so hiking was out; then they informed us that the fishing was off because they had to drain the lake to clear reeds; then we were informed that the man-made snow was canceled because rain looked likely; and just when my wife and I were trying to envision four days and three nights in an RV with squabbling siblings and no wifi, I was contacted by two board members of the resort and the executive director that maybe we shouldn’t come because it looked like there was going to be a massive snowfall — of snow generated the old-fashioned, natural way — and we would be either snowed in, or stuck on the mountain trying to get in. So instead we stayed home and watched “Fringe” and other things Friday night.

On Saturday, newly unscheduled, I decided to tackle some chores:

• putting the year’s worth of unread “Hulk” and “Incredible Hulk” comics into chronological order so that I can read them later
• taking all 20 of my unlaundered dress shirts to the dry cleaner’s
• getting together all my tax records for my CPA; this took four hours
• cleaning my email in-box down to 58 emails I need to respond to — that’s real progress
• editing something I’m writing for publication
• sending my revised bio to the nice people at the Great Plains Theatre Conference
• buying beer and beef sticks
•  buying a form-molding pillow for my bed, and a form-molding bath pillow for the bath, because yes, my neck is still killing me off-and-on from the car accident four months ago
• buying a soldering iron so that I could fix a shoe buckle and a belt buckle
• coming home to do that soldering, abetted by my daughter who has learned in school to solder far better than I ever did
• reading the new issue of New Avengers
• taking a long jacuzzi bath, during which I tested out that new bath pillow and read most of that New Yorker story on Paul Haggis’ resignation from Scientology; I don’t have an opinion one way or the other about Scientology because I can’t quite figure out why it’s any of my business, or how it varies that widely from almost every other religion except that it’s new, but I do have the opinion that this story in no way merits all that space in the New Yorker
• coming downstairs to drink one of those beers and work on my play, “I, Teratoma,” which is what I was doing just before…
• … writing this blog post.

This entry was posted on Sunday, February 20th, 2011 at 12:21 am and is filed under Comics, Playwriting, Thoughts, Writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.