Whee!

Whee! is how I felt when I received my copy of Stealing Time, A Literary Magazine for Parents, and opened to read my review of A Good Man by Mark Shriver. You can read it here: STM3_Relations_Howard

Schmoozing (Photo credit: PTWithy)

And I will note, with my middle-aged-writerly wisdom hat snug around my sweaty summer brow, that I connected with this magazine via Sarah Martinez, author of Sex and Death in the  American Novel, a friend I made at Taos Summer Writer’s Conference. Which I signed up for despite the fact that I dread schmoozing, I hate small talk, I loathe crowds and I drip with sweat as I approach the noisy rooms wherein crowds are making small talk and schmoozing. Yet every single time I go into a noisy rooms to make small talk and schmooze, I come out with an interesting idea, new acquaintance/possible friend, or, worst case, an idea for an appetizer to try at home. It is never all bad.

Horrible like this: Gas line explodes, neighborhood burns (Photo credit: lucy huntzinger)

But my body insists it WILL BE HORRIBLE. Every single time. How fascinating! How misguided. How not-evidence-based. And thus how also an opportunity for dancing on the edge of self-awareness and obliviousness. It is in my awareness of my dueling dual selves that I learn the most, connect the most, open the most doors.

It’s summer. All the doors and windows can be open where I live. I’m going to hang out, and schmooze despite my hating, loathing, and dripping sweat. Whee!