Temporary Housewife

Part of my PLAN (I’m using capitalization to refer to my One Year Plan) is to write 300 words per day. Here we are at almost 5 p.m. and I realize that on my very first day pledging to write 300 words, I have not written 300 words. On a new story I’m developing, I’ve written 159 words. Not. A. Lot. So I need to write 141 more words. (That was 70 words.) I’ve actually been a bit busy today, in that I was not firmly planted on my lovely couch cuddled in with the pups and kitty. The wind continues to be nasty ‘round these parts so I took G to school. After that, I spent some much needed time on the phone with my sister. After that, it was time to gussy up for therapy and a job interview with a temp agency. (146 words! Nailed it!) New therapist is actually quite nice and I think it will be a productive relationship. Job? Outlook appears promising. I’ll learn more next week when my would be interviewer returns. My would be interviewer was out due to busted pipes in her kitchen so ...

I am sitting on my couch, wrapped in a blanket on this cold, very wet February afternoon.  As I listen to the rain beat down on my house, I am contemplating my approach to life.  I am living an unbelievable opportunity right now, something that eludes many people: I'm being given a chance to pursue my dream job. Author. I do a myriad of things to help me in that endeavor.  I do research.  I write.  I read.  I work on my One Year Plan, outlining my eventual roll out of my plan to self publish because I have very little confidence that I will publish the traditional way. Yes, I'm working on self esteem in therapy, I promise. That is the trouble with dreams, though.  They have very little chance of getting off the ground if it is mired in the muck of self doubt.  Descartes said, "I think therefore I am" but my twist on such philosophy is "I think therefore maybe I am".  I can't say it.  I can't say I'm an author.  Because I'm n...