So strange, I have what must be a milk hangover. I had way more than my recommended three eight ounce glasses, more like six, and I ate two big hunks of cheese. I worked out slightly more than I have been and by eleven thirty last night I literally couldn’t keep my eyes open. I slept like the dead and woke up at ten a.m. feeling like I’d been beat up. My muscles are sore head to toe. I think I need to stretch. I might do a yoga tape today.



Blah. Winter jobless blahs abound.

M.B. is a resume goddess. She gets multiple job offers every week based on her resume, which is posted in many on line spots. So yesterday I tore my resume down and built a new one using hers as a template. We are deep in the revision process. I gave her a rough draft last night before I went out and I came home to a thrice-revised page that looks like a freshman comp paper. “Resumes are not writing. They are a piece of graphic communication.” Ten plus years in the academy and it is true that I do not grasp the business world.