Well, sort of. Last week I attended the national Romance Writers of America conference. Me and a couple thousand other romance writers. It's a great chance to learn about the craft and business of writing and to see old friends. I also get to hang out with my publisher and agent and generally pretend I'm hot stuff.
I was certainly hot this time because Atlanta in July is an oven. No wait, more like a sauna. My hat is off to your Southern folk. I don't know how you all stand that heat!
I certainly didn't, especially when I wound up having to run an errand and couldn't get a cab and had to walk a mile back to the hotel. This turned out to not the safest walk I ever took. Found myself in a neighborhood where I plainly didn't belong. One nice man asked me where I was going and then informed me that I should be there. This I had already figured out. He ended the conversation with, "Don't do that again." Thank you, sir. I won't. Still, in spite of my scary adventure, I thought Atlanta was a pretty city. Saw the house where Margaret Mitchell lived and now I must read "Gone with the Wind" again.
Speaking of being gone with the wind, my camera went ... somewhere. Which is why there is no picture accompanying this blog. There is a new camera in little Sheila's future. There is also an iPhone so I can look up cab companies when the one I call refuses to answer the phone. Like Scarlett said (or would have said if sh
I seem to have lost it! My schedule has gotten completely out of whack. We've been so busy this summer going here and there that, well, I'm never here. And even on "vacation" I've been hauling work with me.
This is getting old. I really want to be like the butterfly in this picture and stay still for awhile. Sit on my back patio with some of my neighbors and visit. Breathe. I think I'll have time to breath for a week in August. Maybe. Or not until September. How long can a girl hold her breath? Hmmm. Like my friend Liz keeps telling me, I need to slow down.
I know I'm not the only one. We Americans are such a busy bunch! But I'm not sure we were intended to spin like tops. If we were God would have designed our feet more like ballet slippers so we'd have a nice pointed end on which to spin.
How about you? Do you ever feel too busy, like you're doing too much too often? There is a simple (but not easy) solution to that. Stop. Stop saying yes, stop trying to do it all.
I think I'm going to start taking the advice of my old pal Jody, who, come December, when life can get even more crazy with parties and children's choir concerts and shopping and you name it, would mark off certain days on her calendar for family down time.
I'm not going to wait until December though, or even September. I'm going to start this month, next week, as soon as I'm home from my writer's conference, and mark off some do nothing days. And by do nothing I mean nothing, nada, zip, nuttin, honey. Starting with Sundays. (Often referred to by Christians as Sabbaths. Obviously, if you're Jewish your day of rest falls on Saturday.) A Sabbath is supposed to be a day of rest, a day off, but often even on our days off we're usually busy going somewhere, doing something. For the rest of summer though I'm going to spend my Sunday afternoons drifting on the lake with my hubby or curled up with a book or watching a chick flick. I'm not going to go anywhere... unless somebody invites me over for dinner. And speaking of, I'm not even going to make dinner. Fruit and cheese and crackers or leftovers can do us just fine. (I used to do this no cooking-relax thing. I'm not sure how I got away from it!) I may even take another day off mid-week. Or at least half a day.
Summer's going to be gone before I know it. I think I'd better slow down and see the butterflies! Balancing work and rest is not an easy balancing act for me, but I'm determined to perfect it.
How about you? I hope your summer is going great and I hope you're getting to not only see the butterflies but smell the roses, too.