Tuesday. Election day. I need to go vote. Even if my friend Clay Houdashell wasn't running for JP, and I wasn't excited about casting my ballot for him, (which I am! Go Clay!), I'd have to vote or spend a good amount of time being guilt-ridden over not exercising a right so many women of the past suffered to win for me. I also need to exercise. And decide what to fix for dinner. And get the mail. And check my bank statement. And make the bed. And take a shower. The list goes on, and it's already 3:30 pm! I thought when my kids left home for college I'd have so much time on my hands to try and fill. Yeah, right. At least I've been writing all day, not goofing off. Writing and worrying. The proposal I'm working up for a new book is heavy. Too heavy, I wonder? Too angsty? Just quit worrying, write the damn proposal, send it off and see, I tell myself. Yeah, right. Quit worrying. Like that's ever gonna happen. I was born worrying; I'm sure of it.
In my backyard, the trees are budding with tiny pink and white blossoms. Tulip leaves poke like green spikes through the cracked dry dirt of my flowerbeds. What happened to winter? Did I miss it? We haven't even had a snow yet here in Texas, have we? Was I too busy, writing and worrying and doing everything else I do, to notice? It's as if I blinked and missed an entire season. I had the same thought once while watching an old home video of my youngest son's third birthday. I think we had a party later in the week, but on the night of his actual birthday, we had a cake after dinner. At least, the video proves that...I don't remember. I watched that video of my husband, my three year old son, my older son, and myself all gathered around the table, heard my oldest son saying, "You're three, Jas. You're three!" as if he's amazed, at the ripe old age of not-quite-five, to believe his baby brother could be so old -- and I don't remember that evening. Well, sort of, but it's a blur. I was a young, frazzled mother with two kids almost two years apart to the month. Two rowdy, energetic, fun-loving little boys. I look frazzled. (You should see my hair. It's wash and go. Brillo pad style.) I have plenty of great memories from that time, but I have to admit that much of it is also hazy, as if I was so busy, I missed lots of bits and pieces of an entire season of my life. The lesson? Pay attention to the moments, I suppose. Pay attention. They'll slip away fast! I promise!
On to the shameless self-promo... I found out today that my book Sandwiched will be available in hardcover in May from a large-print publisher! More to follow as I receive more news! Now, go vote people. Go vote!