Something about Fridays

Something about Fridays makes me tired. I would not try to tell you I work that hard--I have a desk job but I'm only there half days or a little more, and then I come home to my desk. But somehow on Fridays I'm tired and ready to relax and loaf. Maybe today it was because I went shopping at noon and lugged in six bags of groceries. It ws a hot day--well, 95, but the humidity was high and it felt hotter, and I was sweaty and tired when I got the groceries in. And now I feel a bit as though I haven't yet woken up from a nice long nap--which I did take.
My good news is that I'm writing. I decided to quit dithering and move ahead, so I'm working on the sequel to my first mystery. And tonight I sent out two more queries--I know stories of people who have been rejected by fifty agents, so this is sort of like a needle in a haystack, but I'm learning something about it everday. I've now joined Guppies (Great Unpublished authors), a branch of Sisters in Crime. I'm not exactly unpublished, but I'm a novice in the mystery business--and it is a field all unto itself. I've written one chapter of what is now called "Kelly Jones Novel Two," and I like it so far. I think I'll join a critique group.
What I thought would be a long, empty weekend will not be at all. Tomorrow morning I have to go pick up page proofs of my book on Great Texas Chefs, then go to Barnes & Noble, if I can find a parking spot (it's the weekend of the PGA tournament at Colonial Country Club and the bookstore is not that far from the golf course--I resent the tournament because it really messes up traffic in my part of town), and then on to Central Market. At noon, I have a yoga lesson, and then I'm going to the neighborhood Lebanese restaurant with Charles and Jan, a friend now retired from TCU. And, of course, I've got to read those pages and index the recipes, work on my novel, and keep reading the manuscript on Sacred Harp music that I brought home from the office. It all sounds pleasant.
American Airlines sent me a voucher for my ticket to Scotland--not the refund I'd hoped for. Jeannie doesn't think she'll be able to go in the allotted year, but Colin, my oldest child, has said he'll go. I don't know if that was a spontaneous offer or if he's serious, but I'll explore. I know I must go to Scotland--a magnet is drawing me. Meantime, tomorrow, I'm going to buy the three Scottish mysteries by Lillian Stewart Carl.
The garage renovation is moving ahead--I've ordered bunk beds and a futon, bought "unimaginative" light fixtures, and washed the sheets that had been on a shelf out there forever--whew, they smelled musty!
Back to writing. Have a good holiday weekend, everyone!