Hope does not spring eternal; it leaks out of a small spring in your unconscious, most of the time a mere trickle. The nicest thing about putting off a letter, that is, a pitch, is that as long as it remains a hopeful idea in your mind, your heart and hope leap up and you think of all the splendid possibilities if your letter is welcomed. But then , when you finally stop putting it off any longer, you write the letter/pitch/presentation/application, whatever....then, oh, then...hope dries up, it dies, and you are left hope-less.

Today I have spent the better part of the day writing pitches. Actually, I have spent the better part of three days writing pitches. My friend and mentor insisted on vetting my letters, copy-editing and improving them. He used to be an editor for a publishing house himself so he knows what he likes to see.

Now we wait. And now hope stops leaking; it starts dying.

If anything comes of all this, I won't have to write a blog. You'll hear the shouts and huzzahs without electronic magnification. I'm pretty sure you'll hear silence. As long as I didn't write the letters I had high hopes; now that they are out there, hopes dwindle, shrink, and fade, die, fall into the sere and yellow leaf...you get the picture. I don't want to think about it any more.

Those of you who know me might be aware that I am the queen of leftovers. I do not throw food away. My first cookbook was about leftovers (Encore: The Leftovers Cookbook), and went into 2 printings. So you can understand I had to make sense of my unused dinner when Matt stood me up the other night. Did I tell you the original menu? I remember mentioning Weight Watchers because I used a WW recipe for "Southern Fried" chicken, baked in the oven - two boneless, meaty breasts. Vegetables included green beans, Israeli couscous in pesto sauce, and baked sweet potato. I ate a small amount of that dinner; I don't have as big an appetite as Matt has, and that night even smaller. .So:

I cut up some of the chicken and added chopped red pepper, celery, hard-boiled egg, onion heated in curry seasoning and mayonnaise to create a chicken salad filling which I rolled into tortilla wraps, for lunches. (Gave two of them away.) I had a guest for dinner last night: seared haddock, roasted beets, sugar snap beans, and leftover Israeli couscous - still have some of that left. Tonight I had sliced chicken on a bed of green beans, sprinkled lavishly with shredded Parmesan and heated till the cheese melted. (Num.) I guess I'll do something like a potato skin with the sweet potato, have to think about the seasoning. Maybe the last of the couscous can be a stir-fried thing like I do with rice.

We go through each day with layers and layers of thoughts, some more useful than others. My mind is like a pousse-café.