Writing

Retreat or Adventure?

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It’s hard to tell sometimes.

Last week’s planned retreat was extremely satisfying, but not in the way I had thought it would be. Instead of an even smattering of spiritual, travel, and writing events, it turned into more of an historical excursion, beginning with the Hamilton soundtrack and ending on Sunday night with the reading of issue #3 of new publisher, Aftershock’s equally new monthly comic, Rough Riders written by Supernatural fave, Adam Glass.

All in good time I’ll be writing a variety of pieces based on last week’s travels, research, and writing opportunities.

To sum up, it was a great week despite some mishaps that worked out well in the end.

Here is a brief summary (all positives) of things that went especially in my favor:

1. As I mentioned, it wasn’t really a retreat as much as an historical adventure. When I was a kid, we traveled to historic sites often as a family, and I forget how much history is right in my own backyard. This week was a good reminder.

2. I had two solid days of writing and one day of research, all coupled with good food, which spurred another piece of future writing.

3. I went to a new breakfast/lunch restaurant called Jimmy’s Eggs, and had the best waitress. She was talkative without interrupting my writing and it turned out that she waited on my family regularly about ten years ago at another place that had a phenomenal weekly special.

4. When I arrived at the Schuyler Mansion, I discovered that they do not take credit cards. While I was trying to figure out how to still go on the Alexander Hamilton tour, one of the other guests paid my way. Random acts are a wonderful and generous thing.

5. I was in the room where it happened – the room in the Schuyler Mansion where Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth “Eliza” Schuyler were married.

6. Toured Grant Cottage, where President Grant wrote his memoirs and died. This was the best historic place tour I’ve been on. I can’t wait to tell you about it.

7. While there I was inspired to write a fictional novel or novella. I’ve already begun the research for this.

8. I bought and received (in time to use for the weekend) a new travel tumbler for my tea as well as an infuser. If you love tea, you understand.

9. We rented a compact car for two days to travel to my nephew’s Eagle Scout Court of Honor out of state, but when we got to the rental company they had no more compact cars so they upgraded us to a Jeep Compass with 340 miles on it and satellite radio. It even had that new car smell. It was a fantastic car and fantastic luck on our part!

10. We saw our family – sister & brother-in-law, nephews, niece. It was a nice mini-reunion.

BONUS #11. On Monday (June 6th) I took my daughter late to school so she could visit the Vietnam War Memorial Moving Wall. At breakfast, the number on my receipt was 337, which is a favorite number of mine. I’ve written about it and I’m sure I will again, but for such a small thing, it made me smile.

Thanks for sharing these snippets of my adventures. I look forward to sharing more details as the days (probably weeks) go by.

A Mini Writing Retreat

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Never make plans. They never work out. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I planned a mini-retreat for this week. Take some time for myself to get my head on straight and my spirit centered before the kids are home for the summer. I planned for the part of the week after Memorial Day since there was only one appointment on my calendar and no school obligations after everyone went back to school and work after the Memorial Day holiday. Our house has been pretty clutter-free for the past couple of weeks, so I enjoy being there again. I mentioned to my husband last week while I was sitting in my corner office that I didn’t want to leave the house. I really liked being there. But let’s be real, if I stay home to write, I’d end up watching Supernatural or The Walking Dead reruns on Netflix. I have the rest of the month for that.

I started thinking about what I wanted to do this week and separately what I wanted to accomplish. I’d attend Mass on Tuesday and Wednesday. I’ve been missing the daily masses both by not attending and also missing them deeply. I’d start my day with G-d, leaving the house at 8:30 and planning to return by 3 when the kids came home from school. It sounds like a good plan, doesn’t it?


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Choices

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As Lin-Manuel [Miranda] said in his commencement address at UPenn this past weekend, “we choose the stories we tell.” That is wholly true, but those stories are shaped by what we choose to do in our lives.

I will tell you about my life this week. It is a ridiculously busy week. Even the calendar is cluttered.  I made a list of everything on my calendar from Sunday the 15th until Saturday the 21st.  Assuming I wrote everything down, that’s twenty-five things. Although I forgot to  include the Target run for household goods and grocery shopping plus two trips this week to The Fresh Market for their specials that are only available on certain days. I also didn’t include my son’s girlfriend visiting us this weekend for the first time. Oh crap! What are we going to make for dinner?!

All but one of the television shows on that list are for the entire family’s viewing. It’s season finales for many of them this week and next. Not listed are writing group assignments, three greeting cards that need to be written out and sent and my journal submission for one class. I also need to clean my house.

So I guess that makes it thirty-four in actuality.

As of this writing, I’ve accomplished the first nine, skipped three and will complete two more tonight plus start another one. I’ve crossed five out as conflicts with more important things that either need to be done or that I would rather do. [Watch my son get a scholarship award at his college and meet a friend of my husband’s visiting from Amsterdam for instance. My daughter also has a concert with her school’s chorus.] All on Thursday.

We will postpone Thursday’s TV until Friday, on demand, or on the CW app.

We will be late to my daughter’s concert and I kind of invited my son’s girlfriend over this weekend without telling anyone, thinking that my son would postpone it until next week. As I said earlier, it’s happening this week.

The Yartzeit for my Dad was a day late, and I didn’t go to mass this morning.

Did I forget to list that I need a couple (or more) of showers on that list?

So, we choose.

And we choose and we adjust our lives and whether through facebook or writing class or the stories we tell our friends, we are constantly making choices.

To pick the best one; the funniest one, the one with the lesson learned or the embarrassing one that we finally find funny.

Whichever one we choose they are our stories; your stories.

Choose them well.

Rundown and Reviews

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When last week started I thought I had all the time in the world. The first half of the week was an empty calendar, and I tried to set up the incredibly busy weekend, not only for us to participate in, but for me to write about. I have a long list of ideas and WIPs and I thought the early part of last week was perfect timing to get a few things started. And then it was Thursday. Ascension mass, catch up on Supernatural, writing class, get ready for the weekend. Sleepover, Free Comic Book Day, Lunch at Dairy Queen, mass for the anniversary of my friend’s death, seeing Captain America: Civil War, meeting my son’s new girlfriend, and Sunday for Mother’s Day and Fear the Walking Dead. This week started the same way.  Nice and quiet, time to write and yet still unused. Damn. Next week isn’t going to be much different. It’s feast or famine, isn’t it? Feast or famine.

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Hope

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I hope I can get home tonight in time for our television show. I hope the toilet doesn’t overflow before we get paid and call a plumber. I hope Glenn is alive on The Walking Dead. I hope and pray that I will, but today I am still just a bill.

Hope is the pleading in a child’s eyes when the ice cream truck goes by.

Hope is waiting outside the surgery or for the tests to come back.

Hope is the light at the end of a tunnel, and coming over the mountain top.

Hope is the line in the sand between destiny and despair.

Hope is the potential in a baby’s tiny fingers and wiggling toes.

Hope is getting on the right train, but being okay if it’s the wrong one. Nothing wrong with riding it for a couple of stops and taking in the newness of someone else’s something.

Hope is not reading ahead even if it kills you.

Hope is knowing the end of the story, but still thinking it might be different the second time.

Hope (no one’s watching) is licking the barbeque sauce off your fingers.

Hope is a rainbow at Niagara and a pink sheep defying gravity.

Hope is the smell of rain on stone and the tinkling sound of rain on water.

Hope is mist and a thin layer of fog.

Hope is an empty gas tank close enough to the gas station to not run out.

Hope is this close to the finish line and that far from the meadow.

Hope is a waterfall and a stream and a rock all apart and not.

Hope is communion and community and the sun coming up every morning.

Hope is a compass rose and a triquetra.

Hope is a butterfly wing and an endless supply of pen and paper.

Hope is the missing puzzle piece.

Life is hope.