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.