It’s Tuesday, and I’m sitting in my dark office. It’s about eight o’clock in the morning. I’ve been up since 5:30 but that just means I’m only on cup of coffee #2. David has left to take the girls to school, and Cian is still asleep. It’s completely quiet in here save the ticking of a little clock I keep on a table and the soft sound of the rain falling against the porch roof out front. I’ve a salt lamp switched on. That warm glow is like inside sunshine on a day like this. Most days we all need a little sunshine, manufactured or not. (Salt lamp, do your magic.) I’ll also tell you something else: we had family over to celebrate Easter on Sunday, and yesterday I was too occupied with the kiddos to worry about clean-up. So right now? My office is the only room in the house that’s truly clean. I might very well be hiding. I wandered in here with my coffee to do something after the garage door closed, but I’…
It’s halfway through the first week of summer break. We’ve gone hiking (during which I was entirely convinced a tick had found its way into my hair, only to discover that one actually landed on David’s shorts. Who’s paranoid now, right?), and to the pool (for a freezing two hours, which ended in two children shivering so hard their teeth chattered even though it was perfectly warm enough to be swimming, they swear). They’ve had shaved ice for dinner, and played in the sprinkler, and eaten dinner al fresco on the deck while rain suddenly sprinkled down. We’ve had one child with a 103-degree fever (yes, it was unrelated to the frigid swimming. Why do you ask?), and washed beach towels that are most definitely the neighbors’ and not ours. We’ve gone to Hersheypark and then to Troegs. I’ve broken up approximately 35 fights (a day) and ignored as many others. I have not yet cleaned out the girls’ backpacks, but Quinlan just did the job for me, and now the kitchen table is piled high with an assortment of broken…
I’m supposed to be on my way to Albuquerque tomorrow, for my organization‘s writers’ retreat. Workshops, writing time, discussion groups. Friends who have brains like mine. Friends who are on social media right now talking with each other as they pack, excited to meet up with a blueberry margarita in hand before the (awesome, fun, hard, rewarding) work begins. But.I put off getting my plane tickets for a couple of reasons, and by the time I sat down to get them, the prices were so high I couldn’t bring myself to book the flights. (Note: never, ever pay off the last credit card and then make a solemn, empathic family vow to stop using them the same year you book a spot at a great writer’s retreat. Ain’t nobody got time for that kind of fiscal responsibility.) If you’d guess that I’m a little bummed about this, you’d be a good guesser. Or you saw me crying. Either or. Now.I sit here at the kitchen table, surrounded by notes and index cards and lots and lots of words in my head…