I’ve started about five postings and finished none of them. Now, of course, I feel guilty for not being more productive, focused, determined. This morning Steve saw the beginnings of a piece about marriage on my desk while I was out for my morning walk and said, “That’s depressing and morbid.” To which I said, “What are you doing reading my stuff before it’s ready anyway.” I think he was responding to the comment at the end that while I never considered divorce, homicide had momentarily entered my mind at one time or another. Overly sensitive, don’t you think?
I began another piece about why some children are resilient despite loss and heartache, but I wandered. Then there’s another one about self esteem and how to bolster it. Why mistakes are a good thing. I seem to excel at starts and then drift. Then become agitated and annoyed with myself. Then I call my daughter Sarah. “I’m done. Dried up. Finished. I’m going to sit on the beach and read romance novels for the rest of my life.” Scream.
Here’s my schedule for the past few weeks. No complaints, just excuses for myself. After I returned from the Iowa Summer Writing Festival on July 14, I drove into Chicago for a family and friend gathering for three days, followed by a weekend caring for my granddaughter Zoe, followed by helping my son care for his two daughters for a week, followed by a visit from friends in Chicago, followed by a drive to North Carolina and back to deliver my grandson John to his Aunt Rebeccah, followed by another weekend in Chicago. And here I am, leaving for
So there you have it. Thanks for your patience. And friendship. I’ll do my best to finish some of these starts as soon as my travel slows down but with four trips already planned for this fall, I don’t see that happening any time soon. Instead, look for some of my earlier Bedtime Stories to make an appearance. I hope you enjoy them.