I'm writing early today, before the whole house wakes up and the chaos reigns once more.
Being pulled in a thousand directions lately. Everything is behind, overdue, etc. Trying to focus only on the task in front of me, but work left undone is always stressful. We usually have a few days off before Christmas to prepare, but not this year, though I'm toying with the idea of striking my staff upon the ground and declaring it so. I need room to breathe.
Warm this week, highs in the 70's, so not very holiday-ish, but it's wet, and foggy, which I like. I haven't gotten out into the garden a huge amount, but I'm insisting on at least a half-hour or so per day. One must have priorities. We finally had a freeze a week or so ago, so winter cleanup has finally begun in earnest in the planting beds. Trees still have not lost all their leaves, however, so vacuuming the courtyard and cleaning out the gutters will have to wait. So achingly beautiful outside. Our fall color has finally arrived in all its glory, calendar be damned. I could just sit outside and look at it for hours, breathing in the smell of tannins and the cool, damp air. Nature only naps briefly here, barely dozing off, really, before it's time to wake again. It suits me perfectly.
Stories have begun twirling around in my head, as they do when the world outside is quieter. After a year with barely any output, (<25,000 words) I'm hoping 2018 is better. Instead of focusing so much on the horrible state of humanity and my own stack of failures, I'm going to step back from social media a bit and focus more on self-care. Eat better. Exercise several days per week. Write every day, whether for publication or not. Spend time in the garden, for that is my tonic. Make peace with the here and now.
Yes, I know the odds of keeping all of that. Maybe it's just whistling a tune in the dark, but somehow it helps just to say it. You have to declare for something. Every ship needs constant course correction, otherwise it's little more than random drifting. Steady as she goes.