Maureen is everyone's mother. She has a rare gift for communicating the negative in a way that says, I'm telling you this for your own good such that some of us are accepting things others have already told us as though we're experiencing this great revelation for the first time in our lives.
I am doing much better on explicit. I'm certain of this. Other pieces of the puzzle may be overlooked at the moment while I focus on this aspect. But I've got it... I hope.
Mega thanks to Caroline Austin Hazen for the care package she sent to both Paula and me. Lots of neat items inside and all individually wrapped and labels. Great fun and a real stress-reliever. It arrived in time for my birthday, too, so this was an opportunity to be a kid and open presents again.
I'm having major fits with the story revision. I'm barely into the middle of the rewrite and the word count is already as long as the earlier work. Too many scenes, I fear. But it's hard work to establish this relationship that's really close until the girl turns into a teenager.
I wore one of my new pairs of shoes to the dinner get-together that Maureen and Greg prepared and it felt S-O good to be walking around in really, really good shoes. I could get very comfortable with this lifestyle of extra-comfortable shoes. It occurred to me that next week, this sale will be over and maybe those neon green shoes will be on sale next.
In the meantime, I mailed partial payment of my Mastercard bill. Only a very small number of my Clarion charges are on it so next month's bill will be huge. I am closing my eyes and not cutting back. I'm tired of being the one to take the chipped plate, the bent fork, and/or forfeit something I want so someone else gets what they want. These six weeks have been/will continue to be very selfish ones for me wherein it is MY turn to have what I want. Thus far, it appears the main things I want are to write better and to buy every pair of brightly colored and comfortable shoes that I can find in the local mall. I am not getting my hair cut again. I might, however, have it straightened.
In sad news, the famed East Clarion woodchuck is no more. It's hole has been filled and rumor has it that they gassed his home. We are hoping he had a back exit and escaped in time but he's not been seen in a few days.
Tomorrow is an afternoon picnic at Leister's. I hope I can get past this stalled part of the rewrite AND finish the critiques before this event. I really, really, really, really want to move forward.