September 26, 2023
Gleanings
- The thing about the plot of an ordinary life is that it’s only revealed slowly and partially even to the one living it!
- This thinking always brings me to the same place: if there were no sweltering Augusts and frigid Februaries would I appreciate September as much as I do?
- During my brief period in acquisitions, folks would send me ideas and ask me if they should write them and unless they were really love stories about invertebrates and fruit, I said yes–I’d love to see it, but what I couldn’t say is, sounds promising, but how good a writer are you and how hard are you going to work on this? Because that’s what really matters.
- Instead, today is the time to celebrate human resilience. We can swim in the darkest waters but with time, those waters become clear again. It’s gradual to be sure. But it happens, even when you think it can’t and even when there is a pandemic thrown in to beat you back down.
- So … how to apply the blue zone lifestyle to one’s own, given the environment in which we live? How to live a relatively simple, healthy, active, stress-free life amidst modern amenities and technology? Is that possible?
- Instead of creating a Bucket List, I’m creating a Teacup Tally. A gentle guide to keep me from letting the weeks slip by without having enough fun.
- Production editors are the quality control of the publishing world. They manage the later phases of publication, starting from the copyediting stage right up to sending files to the printer. They apply deadlines, enforce quality standards, manage a team of copyeditors and proofreaders, and (meticulously) review content and provide feedback.
- We felt closer to the living world then. Closer, tied to its weather, its caprices, its inconveniences. It was easier to wait out the storms, the loss of power, because there were fewer gadgets. No computer, no cellphone, no heat pump, and we didn’t care as much about hot water for daily showers. Once, after a week without electricity, we went to the local pool, which did have power, to swim but mostly to use the showers. Our clothing smelled of woodsmoke.
- In a world, that doesn’t recognize the humanity of our cycles and seasons, that assumes, because it’s a Tuesday in September at ten in the morning, you should be at your optimum, just the same as a Thursday in May at three in the afternoon, it’s hard to allow ourselves the space and grace to ebb and flow just like nature, the nature that we are.
- Sometimes joy comes from the oddest places. And they’re not really that odd, they’re just not what we advertise as the joy makers, the things we should celebrate. And often, I wonder, if the things we should celebrate are oversimplified. The traditional milestones we hold out for, for ourselves and for those around us. We have them in the back of our minds, that tiny chest of clipboards, one per person in our lives.
- If you read this blog, you might know that I love a good Golden Age detective novel (particularly if it happened to be penned by Dorothy L. Sayers or Margery Allingham)…
- Long after Doug moved in to long-term care and I walked by myself, I’d stop and look over my shoulder. Even though I knew he wouldn’t be there. I thought this would be a habit for life. That I would never stop pausing, looking over my shoulder, making sure he was there.
