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 I've now joined Guppies (Great Unpublished authors), a branch of Sisters in Crime. I'm not exactly unpublished, but I'm a novice in the mystery business--and it is a field all unto itself.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!

A mind-boggling day

This has been a day when three big--and I mean big--things demanded my attention, and my mind is reeling tonight. This morning about 8, Jeannie called in hysterics--I couldn't get much out of her except that her husband was in surgery and she was at the hospital just down the street from me. I ran to the hospital which, like most hospitals today, is a conglomeration of buildings added on then and now and the most confusing place I've ever been. Trying to find Jeannie involved a comedy of errors including opening what I thought was a second-floor door only to almost walk out on space and a construction site. I finally found her, pacing the hall. Jim was in surgery for a ruptured aortic aneurysm, and the surgeon told her it didn't look good. When we went into the waiting room, she introduced me to her daugher-in-law as the friend she WAS going to Scotland with--of course, the trip is off! I stayed for an hour, but Jeannie had family around her--and I had things to do. Tonight I'm pleased to report that Jim is in ICU although he doesn't look like himself at all--Jeannie says she's never seen so many tubes. But he's apparently holding his own after a long and traumatic surgery--and a brief return to surgery.
Sunday TCU Press is giving "Books & Music in the Garden," an event I hope will be memorable. The garden is an acre-and-a-half that belongs to a member of our advisory board and was on the Nature Conservancy Tour in 2006. We'll serve wine and lemonade, chip and dip, cheese, and cookies, and people can wander in the garden, talk with the authors, etc. BUT Jeannie was catering the event--which now means I'm catering it, which is a scary thought. I went shopping today and sort of blindly bought all the food. Wine was easy, because the liquor store guides you but food was a pure guess on my part. We'll see on Sunday.
And, meantime, there's Scotland. There trip we planned for months is indefinitely postponed. We agreed this morning that we'll go--just not right now. But it requires a lot of re-thinking. Suddenly my calendar is bare for two weeks, when I thought I'd be gone. The guest bed is piled high with things to be packed for a trip that now won't be. There are people to notify, tickets to cancel, reservations to change--I've waded into it and done pretty well, but it's daunting. And the most daunting is that it requires a major major change in thinking.
I keep thinking to myself, "You're not going to Scotland. You can relax and fritter away the time." Wrong! I have those 150 people on Sunday to worry about. So before I begin to put away all that stuff on the guest bed, I have to get out serving pieces. Jeannie knew in her head what she was going to use where--but I don't have any such sure knowledge.
I have good support--a good friend and a TCU Press author went shopping with me today, another friend and member of our advisory council is helping with serving dishes and going with me to greet the rental table people tomorrow. We'll all muddle through this, Jim will get well, and Jeannie and I will go to Scotland later. But it sure is mind-boggling tonight--and I'm tired.