Between

I’m learning that fall and spring are hard times for the arthritis stuff. All the ups and downs in the barometric pressure wreak havoc on my system. When you get right down to it, this is a really odd way to live a life.

I’ve been having good progress with my fiction writing, though. As I suspected, once I backed off Facebook games I had a bit more creative energy to channel in that direction. It’s weird, though. As much as I want to finish something satisfactorily and have something published, I watch what Aunt B. is going through with her book and it makes me nervous. Now that she’s got something published in book form, she’s having to spend what seems like hundreds of hours promoting it. I wonder how I could ever do such a thing. Of course that’s about 100 steps down the road and worrying about it is like Moses standing in front of the burning bush telling God that he is Slow Of Speech. I’m making excuses for something that really doesn’t need any excuses at all. Yet that’s part of being human, I assume.

Last weekend was the 21st anniversary of my first date with my husband. When I reminded him, he said “I’ve loved you for half my life.” It struck me then–and still does–as one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard. I remember what it was like when we first fell in love. For me it was like I was, for the first time, my entire self. Until we found each other I went through life with a keen sense of something being most definitely missing.

Having him makes me feel like the big problems of life are mere nuisances. As sappy as it sounds, my life is rich beyond measure.

I should point out that for that first date I asked him out. In the library. Yes, all good things in my life happen around books.