Hangin’ at LAX, waiting for
my shuttle home; I’ve got a little over an hour, so I should try to get some
work done, but I am one sleepy bunny right now. I’ll get home around 7, feed
the cats, and then hopefully be awake/alert enough to run to the grocery store
for a few essentials (I have terrible night vision and normally would avoid
driving at night, but a girl’s gotta eat).
(Side note: I wonder if the
guy who just walked by outside really was Dulé Hill?)
My tired brain is full of
all the things I learned and all the work I did. I’m just over 15K into a new
novel, with the goal of finishing it by the end of the month. I’ve got five
things (novels, collections) to get into print over the next month or so. I’ve
got copyediting jobs booked through the end of the year.
I’ve also got workouts with
my trainer, a trip to the garment district to buy fabric for my 1911 dress, a
1911 dress to sew by the 101st anniversary party for the house,
invitations to design and send for said party, another trip to NY/GA/SC to
schedule in December (driving my mom from NY to SC with a detour in GA to visit
my sister)….
The former paragraph is
more important than the latter paragraph, though.
I had an epiphany walking
on the beach, watching the waves. The surf was higher than any other time I’ve
walked that stretch of beach in Lincoln City, and my brain pondered change and
familiarity and differences and growth and movement, and I realized some core stuff
and my stomach started to hurt from the fear and excitement that comes from
knowing you have to change and force your way out of your comfort zone, out of
the things that are familiar, the way you’ve always done things, and then I
tried to explain it to Ken and he was of course hugely supportive (if a little
confused) and I cried a little, and it was scary but good. Really, really good.
I’m still processing it
all. I’m not sure how much I’ll talk about it here. I think it’s going to be
more a case of simply putting things into motion and changing my life the way
it needs to be changed, rather than talking about it. Talk is cheap, etc.
I’m so grateful for the
wonderful things in my life—Ken, writing, friends and family, this glorious
world—and that’s what will always be there for me and get me through.
Right now, though, I’m
going to get a little work done, get home, get some food in the house, lie on
the floor with the kitties, and maybe even watch a little TV. And then sleep a lot.
