Today I am hosting the neighborhood book club meeting and have been working since 7 a.m. trying to get the house ready. I’m not planning anything fancy (some of my neighbors have done fabulous book-themed soirees), but there is still the setting up of chairs, getting the wine and drinks prepped, ice in the ice bucket, glasses out on the counter, vacuuming of the living room, and many other things that weren’t on my to-do list but reared their ugly heads once I started to look around the part of the house we’ll be using.

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I’m secretly pleased with myself that it’s taking so long, because that means I’ve let a number of things go in the “fanatically clean and organized” department since I’ve started writing. My mother would be shocked at my lackadaisical attitude toward clean counters and floors and the accumulation of dust, but I’m reveling in how good it feels. It’s a sign that I should let go of even more because I still feel like I’m giving short shrift to my writing time. I think this small revelation will go into my blessing jar.

I haven’t written on the blog for a long time, for many reasons. Writing the first draft of the novel (finished) was central on my radar. I lost my father in November, which wasn’t that traumatic but is worthy of a blog post or essay in the near future. Then the holidays, of course, which is no excuse at all. All to say that writing regularly in this space is one of my goals for 2014. While writing was supposed to be only a one-year sabbatical, it has turned into a permanent situation for me, thanks to the support and understanding of my composer husband. It would be foolish for me to let this gift lie fallow.

Onward.

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