This was one of those days made up of many seemingly unrelated segments, with no connecting thread and no plan really. Well, there was a plan. Nearly all my days start with a sort of plan, usually made the previous night and often jotted down somewhere and left where I'll be sure to find it, i.e. by the coffee. But sometimes plans need to be put aside. I like what Ray Bradbury said once to a group of young writers. He said you have to just keep writing and sending work out. You have to stop worrying about whether what you want to happen will or won't happen and just wait to see what does happen.
So I spent the early morning packing rats that on Monday, will head out in all directions to people who will be happy to see them.
At the park while Orion played on the slides, I struck up a conversation with a woman who sat down on the grass with me. We started talking about kids, then genetics (she's a student) and finally, depression. An hour later, she was marveling at how she'd been able to tell me, a stranger, so many things she hadn't been able to say to anyone. I imagine all she'd really needed was someone willing to sit and listen and not be embarrassed when she cried.
We stopped to get Orion something to eat. I took a chance and let him have his applesauce cup in the car. He's pretty good with it at home. I counted on him spilling a spoonful or two. He immediately spilled the entire cup in his lap. We were on our way home anyway. I reassured him, saying "It's okay. We'll clean it up." and "It's not your fault." To which he replied,"I know, Mommy. It's your fault," and began spooning it off his pants and into his mouth.
I've resumed work on a book project that has lain dormant for far too long. (Also my fault) It's a collection of stories written for images of various pieces of art, some pieces Neil wrote previously and some new ones by David Niall Wilson. It's to be more or less an art book. Cemetary Dance will be putting it all together. I'm sure they'll do a lovely job. It's me that got stuck. The Gaiman pieces are very short and the David Wilson pieces much longer and several of them are so removed from my concept of what I imagined the art was about that I've had a difficult time reconciling the mix into any sort of whole. But the stories are good and I think I'm very close to a way to pull it together.
I must. Because I said I would and because I'll need to move on soon to Tiny Stories. I'm very much looking forward to that one. We've received stories from all around the world.
I've chosen my armature for the house piece. I've settled upon an unsightly old floor lamp that I didn't throw out because I thought that one day I might make something out of it. It has a very heavy base, which is an asset for armature. The other asset is that I won't have to weld anything or screw anything together, which will sort of make up for the time I lost during my hospital adventure. Tomorrow my daughter Alison is coming to spend the day. She says she's had a cold and needs some babying and some of mom's homemade soup. She says she's bringing her pillow. So tomorrow I'll get up and put some soup on and make tea and she and I will toss ideas around.