Writing Grants

This past weekend was dedicated to grant-writing.  Me?  I wrote the bulk of two grants, over 20 pages of prime real estate.  And my wife?  She wrote a school grant . . . a nice piece of work that should net some money for a children's program.

Once my wife and I had time to sit down together on Sunday night (late!), we critiqued each other's grants.  You show me yours.  I'll show you mine.  What a weekend.  Ten thousand words in two days. 

Naturally, it is difficult working with one's spouse.  I don't enjoy hearing comments like:

Have you thought about indenting these paragraphs?
Did you know you have a coffee stain on page eight?
What's that smell?

Of course, I can't blame the dog anymore during these grant-writing forays and sometimes I just have to eat a burrito.  (Actually, I don't eat burritos, I eat licorice when I write . . . and I write a lot . . . which should tell you something about my licorice bill.)

Hey, even as I'm writing this, I'm eating something.  Something I found in the refrigerator crisper.  It's not crisp.  It's kind of mushy.  Not synthetic.  It was once growing, I know that.  But the taste is indescribable.  Which reminds me of an essay I'd like to write this week about celery . . . .