An absolutely gorgeous day--sunny, just the right temperature, little wind. I spent most of it inside but went out to the deck tonight with Sophie,, a glass of wine, and a good book (Sarah Gruen's At the Edge of the Water). My house is surrounded by old, tall trees--yes a worry, especially during storms--but so wonderful to sit and contemplate. When Sophie lay still by me, I thought about how lucky I am--but then she got anxious for her evening treat.
A day spent at home alone is a good time for introspection, and this afternoon a light bulb came on in my head--well, rather two. As some of you know, I've been having what I call a rough patch with my two longtime friends, anxiety and balance. It dawned on me tonight that I see those increasing difficulties as signs of aging--and I'm not read to age yet. I guess I always hear time's winged chariot at my back...but I'm not ready to acknowledge it. And hiding at home, fearing to go out, is a great way to welcome aging. The physical therapist talks about challenge, and I'm going to challenge myself more. In spite of all my fears, I've always come out smelling like a rose. I saw a picture of a woman in her nineties doing yoga--well I may not do that, but I don't have to give in to age even though I'm on the downward side of my seventies.
The other light bulb had to do with the fact that I've now mapped out my literary life for the next year at least--Desperate for Death should come out this week, I've set the wheels rolling to self-publish my Chicago historical in the fall, so that gives me two books for the year--a reasonable number to keep my name in front of my small buy loyal following.
And Murder at the Mansion waits for me to edit. I've not been in a hurry to get back to it, because I don't want it out before late winter/early spring 2016. But maybe I'll change that, might even look for a new publisher instead of self-publishing. And there's always the sequel to The Perfect Coed to finish. I've been acting like I'm at loose ends--which doesn't sit well with me--and I'm going to get over that and fill my desk with projects. Maybe I should try short stories again.
Will these two light bulbs bring instant change? I doubt it. I think it's a long road, but I'm on my way. One thing physical therapy has taught me that helps with the aging thing--I didn't realize I was shuffling like an old lady, and now I'm very conscious of bending my knees and lifting my feet well off the floor. It's those little changes.
Now, back to that book.
A day spent at home alone is a good time for introspection, and this afternoon a light bulb came on in my head--well, rather two. As some of you know, I've been having what I call a rough patch with my two longtime friends, anxiety and balance. It dawned on me tonight that I see those increasing difficulties as signs of aging--and I'm not read to age yet. I guess I always hear time's winged chariot at my back...but I'm not ready to acknowledge it. And hiding at home, fearing to go out, is a great way to welcome aging. The physical therapist talks about challenge, and I'm going to challenge myself more. In spite of all my fears, I've always come out smelling like a rose. I saw a picture of a woman in her nineties doing yoga--well I may not do that, but I don't have to give in to age even though I'm on the downward side of my seventies.
The other light bulb had to do with the fact that I've now mapped out my literary life for the next year at least--Desperate for Death should come out this week, I've set the wheels rolling to self-publish my Chicago historical in the fall, so that gives me two books for the year--a reasonable number to keep my name in front of my small buy loyal following.
And Murder at the Mansion waits for me to edit. I've not been in a hurry to get back to it, because I don't want it out before late winter/early spring 2016. But maybe I'll change that, might even look for a new publisher instead of self-publishing. And there's always the sequel to The Perfect Coed to finish. I've been acting like I'm at loose ends--which doesn't sit well with me--and I'm going to get over that and fill my desk with projects. Maybe I should try short stories again.
Will these two light bulbs bring instant change? I doubt it. I think it's a long road, but I'm on my way. One thing physical therapy has taught me that helps with the aging thing--I didn't realize I was shuffling like an old lady, and now I'm very conscious of bending my knees and lifting my feet well off the floor. It's those little changes.
Now, back to that book.
1 comment:
Traffic cop kills two peace loving Muslims in DFW possibly saving the lives of tens (hundreds?) of people.
1. The attackers were carrying assault rifles, cop, with his handgun killed both, not many people appreciate the disadvantage at which the officer found himself in.
2. Can you give law enforcement some love?
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