Today is one of those days where the world looks like it was designed for nothing more than rain. The sky is milky grey and the outlines of roofs are softened and muted. I can’t see the rain from my window but I can hear it; the sound is a thrumming murmur of white noise.
I am delaying, delaying this morning. I have a tendency to do this when I know that getting up means moving towards doing things that I don’t want to do. Today those things include:
- running — which I’m putting off until tomorrow when B. will do it together with me.
- preparing a plan and materials for a workshop I will facilitate on Monday at my job.
- writing up an information packet for families who might be interested in being interviewed for the book I’m writing.
- printing out directions to Whidbey Island, figuring out if I can order a PZM flat microphone from Amazon and get it delivered to A.’s house in Anacortes, reserving a rental car and buying insurance.
This Sunday I will attend a church service in a small navy town in Washington State. It is the first Sunday of Advent, apparently: the hanging of the greens. Ergo, it is a good day to try and meet young families. I want to interview kids and parents in conservative families that support the war in Iraq. So far the few people who have contacted me have pretty much not supported the war. We’ll see what I find; I’m hopeful that I’ll meet some potential interviewees on Sunday. And I’ll get to learn what the hanging of the greens is. I keep visualizing children draping wilted leaves of swiss chard on a Christmas tree. I don’t think that will be it, quite.
On Saturday night last weekend I placed an order for moo cards. I have an unrealistic fantasy that they will arrive today, just in time for my outing to the church this weekend. They are my writer’s business cards, which is pretty exciting, to have business cards that identify me as a writer, and they are moo cards, which is exciting in itself. Moo cards come in a packet of 100, and each individual card can have a different image on the back. I flip-flopped all day on Saturday between ordering a set with all sorts of cool/cute/beautiful images created by designers on the moo site and ordering a set with a photo of myself on the back. I thought it would actually be practical to have a photo of myself on the cards. No one would ever look at the card and go, “Hum, I wonder where I got this and who the heck I got it from…” Which, I have to admit, is what happens to me with most of the cards I am given. I suppose it would be smart for me to annotate the business cards people give me on the back, so that I can remember who they were when I find the card later in a purse or on the corner of my desk or worst, in the bottom of a drawer that I haven’t opened for two months.
Anyhow, my point: it would be pragmatic, and in some way sort of cool, to have my photo on the back of my moo card. But… ehhhh…. I imagined myself giving the moo cards out. With a photo of myself on the back. And I suddenly felt embarrassed, imagining myself meeting some writer, we have a neat little chat, connect around our writing, and then at the end of the conversation I pull out my moo cards and hand one to the other writer…
“Oh, what’s this?” The writer is looking at the little moo card with a photo of me on it. Actually, the writer is just looking at the photo of me, as if I have just given him or her a small photo of myself as a keepsake.
“Oh, uh, it’s my business card. On the other side.”
The writer turns over the moo card.
“Oh! I see.” He or she nods. “Cute. Well, thanks. Nice talking to you.”
No, no, no. I can’t live with that scenario dwelling in my imagination every time I consider handing someone a card. I want to love my moo cards. So I ordered a set using designs available on the website. I can’t wait for them to arrive! Then I’ll be a real writer! Heh.
