Thank you, Walt

This photo depicts Walter Elias Disney's star ...

This photo depicts Walter Elias Disney’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ok, I admit it.  I was a tad overambitious when mapping out my writing plan for the weekend.  A three day weekend! While I am getting back in the habit, and I’m pleased with the progress I’m making, I don’t have the stamina I once did.  A really good writing day leaves me fried the following day.  So…I didn’t get a whole lot of words down yesterday.  I did, however, hammer out some plot points that had been nagging at me, so that counts as something. And I made enough dinner to have leftovers for tonight.

That means the only chore that had to get done today was making the week’s gumbo for the dogs.  No, no, don’t look over at the laundry pile.  All the stars aligned, I had the breakfast in the house that Flower Child actually wanted to eat, and plenty of milk for coffee.  And then, when I sat down to write, and Flower Child wilted, exhausted from being awake for 30 minutes, we found Mary Poppins was playing on the Disney channel.  After Mary Poppins came Lady and the Tramp, and after Lady and the Tramp came Hercules, and after Hercules came Alice in Wonderland, and now Aladdin is on.  Hear that?  It’s the blissful sigh of a productive writing day, gumbo made and cooling, the girl happily snuggled on the couch with Little Incredibly Dumb Dog watching movies, Big Senile Dog snoring to provide the background music.

I’m a Disney fan.  Not politically correct, but true.  I like most of their movies, and have truly happy memories of vacations at Disney World with Husband and the fringelings when they were younger and we had enough money to take a vacation every other year.  Sure, there’s also the memory of having to go to the first aid station with Nerd Child when he was an infant, and one of Husband’s chest hairs got wrapped around his eyeball in a way that required medical attention.  I think that was the same stay when I got heat stroke our first day there, between 8000% humidity and nursing.  But the next morning, I was on Dumbo with Man Child, what could be bad?

I’d like to think I’ll be able to write a little more after Flower Child goes to bed, but I doubt it.  On the other hand, I’ve got an overwhelming urge to listen to Grace Slick.  Any day that ends with Jefferson Airplane is a good one.