My post traumatic weekend
I had oral surgery last Thursday. I wish I could say that I’m an adoringly appreciative patient, but when I’m not feeling well, I just want to be left alone. So here I had an army of friends and relatives wanting to help, and there wasn’t much they could do. I couldn’t talk, couldn’t eat. I slept mostly at first, until I switched from prescription meds to Tylenol, at which point I could think again.
DH was actually away with the grandkids for the weekend, a date arranged long before my surgery was scheduled and one that couldn’t be changed, since it involved tickets to the Patriots’ game. So I was (dum da dum dum) home alone.
Know what happens when you’re home alone? YOU CONTROL THE REMOTE!
Wowee! I watched four movies. First, Saturday morning, came “Stupid Crazy Love,” which I totally enjoyed (a great plot twist at the end that, as a writer, I fully appreciated). Then, Saturday afternoon, came “Water for Elephants.” I had liked this book when I first read it, probably because I remember the circus from my childhood. But I gotta tell you, though I adore Robert Pattinson and admire Reese Witherspoon, I found the movie depressing.
But then, Sunday morning, came “The Help.” I loved that book and was worried the movie wouldn’t do it justice. But it was even better! What a powerful movie! The acting was amazing – every single character – and the story tugged at me even more than it had in the book. It was long, but I didn’t look at my watch once. DH wants to see it, so I’ll happily watch it again.
OK. Then, Sunday afternoon, for fun, I watched “E.T.” I had never seen it before – must be the only one on the planet who hasn’t – and it was a little dated, but fabulous!
The icing on the cake, of course, once “E.T.” ended and the regular TV came back on, was the win-saving pickoff by the Pats’ Jerod Mayo.
So my downtime was fun, and here I am at my computer Monday morning. I still can’t talk or eat well, but I’m thinking about SWEET SALT AIR, so I’m clearly recovering. Actually, I’m thinking about sex. I have a big sex scene coming in the next chapter – and hey, I’ve told you about how I describe a voice, so why not this? Writing a sex scene isn’t about juggling body parts. There are emotions involved.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. More later. Ciao.