1: relating to, caused by, or being interference between previous learning and the recall or performance of later learning {proactive inhibition of memory}
2: acting in anticipation of future problems, needs, or changes “Kate became increasingly proactive as her efforts yielded increasingly promising results.”
Whewwwwwee, boy am I tired. Up late late late last night working on two rush freelance projects–all the while throwing my socks around the room in a frenzy trying to keep the Mags out of trouble. She got to crash at 1am, lucky girl, while I fought repeated headnods until 2:30am. I remember the days of art school when staying up that late was the norm. Now it completely dehabilitates me the next day. Especially when the next day involves waking at 5am for a puppy pee trip, then 7am for puppy’s wakey wakey romp in the yard. Did I really sleep at all last night? Luckily, Maggie makes the red eyes worth it. Plus, the freelance, if it keeps up, could be my dream coming true. It doesn’t seem so bad in that light.
And I got a brand new scanner out of it. I needed a scanner to complete my assignment for my old toy designing buddies. At the very last minute I called a local computer store and asked them to put aside an Epson Perfection 4878 Photo Scanner. Then my very accomodating hubby stopped at the store and picked it up for me on his way home from work. By the time I got home I had a very waggy Maggie and a big fat scanner box sitting at my feet. I can’t tell you how exciting it is to get a new piece of hardware for my studio. This means no more sneaking scans in at the day job, saved to borrowed ZIP disks and smuggled home. This equals a quarter less stress around my freelance ventures.
In other news, Maggie has inspired not only an essay on grass but now a children’s book on grass, featuring none other than her royal self. A dummy (roughly sketched draft) of this book is the newest item on my To Do list, and I am very, very excited about it. Perhaps this will break my thick wall of fear around writing my own picture books. The very thought of it has stirred a few sleepy stories that have been hibernating in my noggin. I hear them whispering, “You mean she might finally do it? Will she do it? Could she finally set us free? Oh happy day…” They’re whispering so as not to scare off the thought of it all.
