It is barely Friday now. This almost became a Saturday bonus post, although many of you won't read this until the weekend is past anyway.
But Friday has been good to me, and I didn't want to neglect it. It's now nearly ten o'clock, and I am between the movie night with the kids (Night At the Museum... so funny!) and movie night with my husband (the last of our Horatio Hornblower movies - there have been, I think, nine of those in all spread over several weeks). I have a glass of wine, a laptop, and several great days settling in my soul.
I thought all week about this post, about all the little things I am thankful for. I intended to write about things I am addicted to; good things I can't get enough of.
Beach towels, for example. What is it about beach towels that make me feel this intense need to stockpile a closet full of them, to buy every pretty one I see? Is it the bright colors? The Hawaiian flowers or ocean life depicted on them? Is it the faint scent of Coppertone and chlorine that is hidden in the back of my brain that wafts across my memory when I see them? Is it the feel of the warmth of the sun on my skin, that wonderful, relaxing sensation I enjoyed before the days of skin cancer warnings and hints of wrinkles? Maybe it is just the hope of summer coming, of long lazy days with my family, and vacations where the sand is soft and the water clear. Maybe it is because the places I most need beach towels are places I love to be.
In any case, I bought two more this week. Knowing I shouldn't. Knowing I didn't need them. I walked by and picked them up. Put them down. Picked them up. Walked away, and then came back.
I am addicted to beach towels.
And cocoa dusted almonds.
And library books. I can't walk out with just one. Or two. This week I had a stack so high I knew I'd never get them all read before I had to return them. After checking out, on the way out the door, I saw a book that's been on my list to read since before it was published. I looked at the book. I looked at the stack. Next week, it probably won't be there, I reasoned. It may have a wait list a mile long by then. I'll be sorry, I thought. So I took the book and went back to the checkout desk.
It is a fantastic book. I am now addicted to that.
So many good things this week.
But today, before I wrote this post, before I even got out of bed, I counted the days left in the school year: the days left that my kids are in school and my schedule is still to some extent my own. And I am down to a very few.
This year did not go how I intended. In September I had great plans of finishing my novel, querying it and writing an entirely new novel. I'd be done with that one by now. And have an agent. And join a gym and be ten pounds lighter.
And now it's summer and I have less than fourteen days of clear schedule left in the school year. Looking back, I did much better on my gym plans than my writing plans. As hard as I tried, which admittedly at times was not as hard as I could have tried, I have not finished a new novel. I certainly started quite a few, but none stuck.
And this morning, looking back over the year, and looking forward to today, I decided now was the time to kick it into gear. Now is the time to seize the day. If an agent is still to be acquired with the book on submission, than that is awesome, but there's no time to wallow in the fact that it hasn't happened yet, and no time to wait around for it to happen tomorrow or in some vague future. Today is the day to make a new book, a better book, another start at my dream.
So I shrugged off the gym and stayed at home and wrote. And wrote. And wrote. And for the first time since the finished book, it was easy, and a joy, and so engaging I almost missed picking the kids up from school. And the weekend is on us with plans for breakfast out and time at the pool, and all I could think about was how sad it was that I didn't have more time to write.
So today, on Friday, in counting what is a good thing, my most good thing today is finding my groove again. Feeling as in love with writing and with my book as I have ever been. Having that desire to do it over just about anything else.
Better than beach towels and cocoa almonds and stacks of books to read.
This is my very good thing.