Week 1 Gratitudes

Time for some appreciation and gratitude.

This is the end of  Week 1 of my new intention to write every day, Monday through Friday, on The Project.

First, I appreciate G. For everything, but especially for understanding why I am squirreled up in my room so much, and for making the elixir (we are doing a liver and gall bladder cleanse that involves juicing limes and mixing that lime juice with olive oil and chugging it.) And for making dinner, and for asking, with love, how it’s going each evening, and listening to my blather.

Next, Jennifer, my friend and Naturopath who understands that my eczemic ears are one thing, but that it’s actually my inability to finish stuff that’s the real itch.

And to Dani Shapiro for writing Still Writing which I am finding incredibly supportive and inspiring at the moment. I am so grateful to writers who write about their process: Anne Lamott, Natalie Goldberg, Virginia Woolf, to name a few. Thank god for them. For without them I wouldn’t be able to brazen this out. I’d feel too weird, too lonely, too guilty. They write stories and novels, yes, but they also take time to write about what it’s like to wake up in the morning and embark upon the endless sea, and have to build your boat, too.

Those are the people who supported me through Week 1. A deep bow of gratitude to all of them.

Tomorrow is Saturday. I have given myself the weekends off. Time to focus on other things.

Happy Birthday G!

It’s hard to write here everyday. It really is. That’s why it’s such a great Lenten sacrifice. And it works on a lot of levels. I have to write some sort of content here, and if you are subscribed, you have to read it. Painful all around! Blogging FTW!

Today is G’s birthday. She is 44. I love the double number birthdays, don’t you?

Forty-four is cool. I wish I were forty-four. She is a splendid specimen of 44 too: healthy, full of vitality, glowing, growing in wisdom and depth, and also in graciousness and charm and goofiness.

Grace and goofiness. Tell me that is not THE perfect combination of attributes for a forty-four year old?

This is the first time since I’ve known her that she has been home for her birthday. She is usually down south with her team, who takes her to Hooters and has buxom women shake their maracas in her face while singing Happy Birthday to a

Happy Birthday

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lighted cupcake.

It is a hard act to follow, I must say. I did okay in the cupcake department but sadly, I do not have Hooter-style maracas.

She wanted lasagne for dinner, and I was glad to oblige. Now I need to go downstairs and light the cupcakes and help her open some gifts.

Happy Birthday G!

And to G’s mother: “Well DONE!!” Very well done!