Beware the Ides of March, y'all.
So it's the Ides of March -- Caeser's big 'beware me, yo' day. We're two days from St. Patrick's Day, five days from the first day of spring, a week and a half from Easter, and two weeks from the next episode of 'Veronica Mars'. March, this year, is pretty darn packed with chewy holiday goodness, no matter what faith, creed or set of surrealistic spiritual instructions you happen to follow. (On a more private celebrational note, Lilly is sixteen weeks old tomorrow -- the point at which I officially switch to calculating her age by months, rather than weeks. They grow up so awfully, dismayingly fast...)
This led me to thinking. That seems to happen a lot. What do I have to celebrate in this glorious springtime of the year?
A lot.
First off, I have my health. More than I have in a long time, actually; I haven't twisted my ankle in months, despite taking some vicious falls recently, my back hasn't gone out, and save for a brief bout of office crud, I haven't caught any colds or flus. My teeth don't hurt, my balance is good, I'm feeling enthusiastic about getting out and getting moving, and it all just feeds back into feeling even better. Life is pretty good. Also, this has quite possibly been the best hair week of my adult life.
I have a decent job that pays me a living wage, engages my attention, and allows me to work with a lot of very cool people. In an ideal world, I wouldn't have to work at all (of course), but if work is required, I could do a lot worse. I post a lot when working, because my brain tends to function in periods of intense concentration followed by five-minute spurts of rambling; the rambling gets dumped here. But still, I enjoy what I do, and I need to remember that.
I'm writing again! My writer's block regarding The Brightest Fell (Toby, book five) has pretty much dissolved, which leaves me hopeful about getting back to work on Lady of the Underground sooner than later. So perhaps I won't be lynched by my own proofreaders after all. I have a few other projects in process, most of which I'm still being quiet about, but Jane and I are definitely back on speaking terms.
The astonishing amount of help that appears when I decide I want to do something insane. The list of people helping me prepare for OVFF is truly impressive at this point, and covers aspects from costuming to artwork and musical support -- I may actually be finished getting ready by the time October rolls around, rather than screaming and flailing at the last minute. Wow.
Lilly. She's a wonder and a delight, and while I complain about her constantly, I wouldn't trade her for anything in the world.
My clones. Merav is the voice of continual reason, she's the person I cry on and cling to, she holds me steady when everything is falling down. Batya is comforting and constant, and even when she's not here, I know I'm not alone, because she exists. I've always had a core of close, necessary female friends. I just got really lucky with the ones I have now.
Everyone closer to home. Jeanne, Michael, Amanda, Chris, Rey, The Cat, Our Meg, Alison, Paul, Beckett, Julie...these are the people who keep me sane. Who go to lunch with me, talk to me, go to the movies with me when I can't handle the real world, walk the flea market with me in the dead of summer, and generally let me share their lives with them, because that's part of what friends do. I am so blessed where people are concerned. I don't think I show that often enough, or concretely enough, but I am.
Meredith. Everything else has already been said.
Baja Fresh. Stop looking at me like that. I love pseudo-Mexican food, and there's a Baja Fresh near my house, and it's both fast and easy, and a great way to improve my mood when I'm feeling down. I feel no regrets about my affection for the Baja Burrito, nor for my tendency to treat the pico de gallo like it was a beverage instead of a garnish. Mmmmmmmm, tomato.
Flying Colours Comics and Other Cool Stuff. I've been going there since the place opened, seventeen years ago; long enough that Joe, the owner, scolded me for mistakenly claiming it was twenty years, because 'you should know better'. They special-order the things they know I'll like, they hold my saver bag for months when they need to, and going for my comics every week isn't just a treat, it's a comforting ritual, like going home. So I'm celebrating it. So there.
Everyone reading this journal. If I haven't mentioned you specifically, you still matter; you matter to me, whether you're a close friend, an acquaintance, someone waiting for me at the cafe in Last Thursday, or just another newcomer to the Babylon Wood. You matter because you're here, and I celebrate the fact that you wandered by. Welcome to the Ides of March. May all things be better and brighter for you from here. May we turn the year around in light.
Welcome to the spring.
This led me to thinking. That seems to happen a lot. What do I have to celebrate in this glorious springtime of the year?
A lot.
First off, I have my health. More than I have in a long time, actually; I haven't twisted my ankle in months, despite taking some vicious falls recently, my back hasn't gone out, and save for a brief bout of office crud, I haven't caught any colds or flus. My teeth don't hurt, my balance is good, I'm feeling enthusiastic about getting out and getting moving, and it all just feeds back into feeling even better. Life is pretty good. Also, this has quite possibly been the best hair week of my adult life.
I have a decent job that pays me a living wage, engages my attention, and allows me to work with a lot of very cool people. In an ideal world, I wouldn't have to work at all (of course), but if work is required, I could do a lot worse. I post a lot when working, because my brain tends to function in periods of intense concentration followed by five-minute spurts of rambling; the rambling gets dumped here. But still, I enjoy what I do, and I need to remember that.
I'm writing again! My writer's block regarding The Brightest Fell (Toby, book five) has pretty much dissolved, which leaves me hopeful about getting back to work on Lady of the Underground sooner than later. So perhaps I won't be lynched by my own proofreaders after all. I have a few other projects in process, most of which I'm still being quiet about, but Jane and I are definitely back on speaking terms.
The astonishing amount of help that appears when I decide I want to do something insane. The list of people helping me prepare for OVFF is truly impressive at this point, and covers aspects from costuming to artwork and musical support -- I may actually be finished getting ready by the time October rolls around, rather than screaming and flailing at the last minute. Wow.
Lilly. She's a wonder and a delight, and while I complain about her constantly, I wouldn't trade her for anything in the world.
My clones. Merav is the voice of continual reason, she's the person I cry on and cling to, she holds me steady when everything is falling down. Batya is comforting and constant, and even when she's not here, I know I'm not alone, because she exists. I've always had a core of close, necessary female friends. I just got really lucky with the ones I have now.
Everyone closer to home. Jeanne, Michael, Amanda, Chris, Rey, The Cat, Our Meg, Alison, Paul, Beckett, Julie...these are the people who keep me sane. Who go to lunch with me, talk to me, go to the movies with me when I can't handle the real world, walk the flea market with me in the dead of summer, and generally let me share their lives with them, because that's part of what friends do. I am so blessed where people are concerned. I don't think I show that often enough, or concretely enough, but I am.
Meredith. Everything else has already been said.
Baja Fresh. Stop looking at me like that. I love pseudo-Mexican food, and there's a Baja Fresh near my house, and it's both fast and easy, and a great way to improve my mood when I'm feeling down. I feel no regrets about my affection for the Baja Burrito, nor for my tendency to treat the pico de gallo like it was a beverage instead of a garnish. Mmmmmmmm, tomato.
Flying Colours Comics and Other Cool Stuff. I've been going there since the place opened, seventeen years ago; long enough that Joe, the owner, scolded me for mistakenly claiming it was twenty years, because 'you should know better'. They special-order the things they know I'll like, they hold my saver bag for months when they need to, and going for my comics every week isn't just a treat, it's a comforting ritual, like going home. So I'm celebrating it. So there.
Everyone reading this journal. If I haven't mentioned you specifically, you still matter; you matter to me, whether you're a close friend, an acquaintance, someone waiting for me at the cafe in Last Thursday, or just another newcomer to the Babylon Wood. You matter because you're here, and I celebrate the fact that you wandered by. Welcome to the Ides of March. May all things be better and brighter for you from here. May we turn the year around in light.
Welcome to the spring.