Blogging . . . by Spence
You thought I wouldn't do it, didn't you? You thought I was too busy or too inarticulate or too uptight to spill my guts out here for all the world to see.
Think again.
When I was a kid I wrote all the time. I had so many ideas I couldn't keep track of 'em all unless I wrote them down. Not that I'd have shown them to anybody. Not then. Not yet.
"Got dreams bigger'n all creation," my ma used to say and shake her head. "Just like your old man."
She didn't have much good to say about my old man. And who could blame her?
Anyway, I learned pretty quick to keep my mouth shut. Didn't matter what I said anyway. Only what I did. "Put up or shut up," my uncle Joe always said. Works for me.
That's what I'm telling Anne. You know -- Ms McAllister. The A.U.T.H.O.R. She can't let me sit on park benches THINKING. That's not me. Not even with the bottle of scotch. Which she ought to know. Because I swore off scotch. Haven't touched it since . . .well, she knows when. And she knows why. So I don't know what her problem is.
Well, I do, actually. She's too damn vague. She's got to get a goal. A focus. Forget about all the peripheral stuff, get her sights set on one thing and go for it. That's what I do. It's what I've always done.
Sometimes it doesn't work out. You don't win every time. But you don't let it stop you. You can't.
She's pacing around the room right now, coming to look over my shoulder, then muttering and going away again, still muttering.
"Go make a cup of tea," I told her a few minutes ago. She did. But now she's back. drinking tea and muttering. She drinks gallons of the stuff. Mutters a lot, too. Something about Sadie.
She'd better not mess with Sadie.
Sadie Morrissey and I are a team. if she thinks she can jumpstart her damn book by messing with Sadie, she's asking for trouble. Not that Sadie would let her. Sadie is the most dependable woman in the world. The most organized. Throw a thousand details up in the air and Sadie would have them filed alphabetically before they hit the ground.
I can sketch out in vague terms any idea, and Sadie can follow what I'm saying and sometimes get there ahead of me. Hell, she knows what I think before I do. She knows what I need. She's like the nurse who hands the doctor the scalpel before he asks for it.
What? Anne's over there rolling her eyes and going, "Oh, please," and looking like I don't know what I'm talking about. I do! I know Sadie. Have known her since she started following her brother Danny and me around when she just learned to walk.
Maybe she imprinted on me. Like a duck.
Smartest damn duck in the world. Most reliable. Least likely to kick up a fuss. So why on earth is Anne carrying on about her? Sadie's fine. She's doing a job she loves. I pay her damn well to do it. If she thought she wasn't getting paid enough, she'd say so. I know Sadie. We're a team. That won't change when I marry Dena.
What? Stop sputtering in your tea, damn woman!
Oh hell, enough of this! I've got work to do. I'm getting married in an hour. Then I'm heading off to the South Pacific on my honeymoon.
And Sadie, since you ask, will be back home holding the fort. Taking care of business. It's what I pay her for. She watches my back. Like I said, Sadie and me, we're a team.
Think again.
When I was a kid I wrote all the time. I had so many ideas I couldn't keep track of 'em all unless I wrote them down. Not that I'd have shown them to anybody. Not then. Not yet.
"Got dreams bigger'n all creation," my ma used to say and shake her head. "Just like your old man."
She didn't have much good to say about my old man. And who could blame her?
Anyway, I learned pretty quick to keep my mouth shut. Didn't matter what I said anyway. Only what I did. "Put up or shut up," my uncle Joe always said. Works for me.
That's what I'm telling Anne. You know -- Ms McAllister. The A.U.T.H.O.R. She can't let me sit on park benches THINKING. That's not me. Not even with the bottle of scotch. Which she ought to know. Because I swore off scotch. Haven't touched it since . . .well, she knows when. And she knows why. So I don't know what her problem is.
Well, I do, actually. She's too damn vague. She's got to get a goal. A focus. Forget about all the peripheral stuff, get her sights set on one thing and go for it. That's what I do. It's what I've always done.
Sometimes it doesn't work out. You don't win every time. But you don't let it stop you. You can't.
She's pacing around the room right now, coming to look over my shoulder, then muttering and going away again, still muttering.
"Go make a cup of tea," I told her a few minutes ago. She did. But now she's back. drinking tea and muttering. She drinks gallons of the stuff. Mutters a lot, too. Something about Sadie.
She'd better not mess with Sadie.
Sadie Morrissey and I are a team. if she thinks she can jumpstart her damn book by messing with Sadie, she's asking for trouble. Not that Sadie would let her. Sadie is the most dependable woman in the world. The most organized. Throw a thousand details up in the air and Sadie would have them filed alphabetically before they hit the ground.
I can sketch out in vague terms any idea, and Sadie can follow what I'm saying and sometimes get there ahead of me. Hell, she knows what I think before I do. She knows what I need. She's like the nurse who hands the doctor the scalpel before he asks for it.
What? Anne's over there rolling her eyes and going, "Oh, please," and looking like I don't know what I'm talking about. I do! I know Sadie. Have known her since she started following her brother Danny and me around when she just learned to walk.
Maybe she imprinted on me. Like a duck.
Smartest damn duck in the world. Most reliable. Least likely to kick up a fuss. So why on earth is Anne carrying on about her? Sadie's fine. She's doing a job she loves. I pay her damn well to do it. If she thought she wasn't getting paid enough, she'd say so. I know Sadie. We're a team. That won't change when I marry Dena.
What? Stop sputtering in your tea, damn woman!
Oh hell, enough of this! I've got work to do. I'm getting married in an hour. Then I'm heading off to the South Pacific on my honeymoon.
And Sadie, since you ask, will be back home holding the fort. Taking care of business. It's what I pay her for. She watches my back. Like I said, Sadie and me, we're a team.
posted by Anne McAllister at 7:12 AM
3 Comments:
So what happens Spence, when Sadie decides she's tired of being your Girl Friday? What happens if she decides to walk out on you? That she is no longer a duck or a goose, but a passionate woman? And ndecodes to follow her own dreams? What happens to your well-ordered life then?
Michelle, Spence is checking his watch and waiting for the wedding to start. So he's letting me answer you -- because Sadie isn't here yet. If she were, he'd let her do it. Spence knows how to delegate, as you may have figured out.
But there is something else he doesn't know. And he's about to find out!
I found out.
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