Head Above Water. Just.

I'm working on the novel. A little.

Mostly, I'm working on making from day to day as gracefully as I can. I mean respectfully, optimistically, and with dignity. As opposed to growling, snapping and whining at myself and the nearest target (unfortunately usually my immediate family).

This sounds so pathetic. I mean, I'm not in Iraq. I don't have cancer. Life is in general so good. I have no serious complaints. My problems are petty, middle-class problems.

But here's what seems to have happened. AGAIN. I seem to have bitten off more than I can chew.

I somehow (while sober, mind you) signed up to absolutely accomplish the following, all in the same 2 weeks:
Finish the novel
Lose 10 pounds
Lead training sessions at work (I have finally created my first PowerPoint presentation!)
Make not 1 but 2 costumes

(The last of these necessitated unpacking my mother's sewing machine and then finding the foot pedal - which itself took 3 hours - and experiencing again, more deeply, that loss. Grieving alone seems to still be a full-time background-process job - a unix geek could do a PID of my brain & heart & find all sorts of interesting stuff there.)

This is on top of the usual working fulltime, running the kids to gymnastics & dance & riding, and the meetings for school & the Nutcracker rehearsals, and preparation for an upcoming (and very cool, yet to be blogged) Red Tent retreat for the girls in R's class.

I bit off too much, and I'm paying the price for it. And writing about it exorcises the stress, but still. How many times will I have to learn this lesson?

At least once more, apparently.