On the first day of November, I posted the above picture to Instagram and wrote: Waking up to this beautiful morning brings me great opitimism about the month of November. National Novel Writing Month, a visit with my sister & nephew, Thanksgiving, Christmas shopping, a growing baby belly…what else is possible?
A lot, it turns out, including a trip to New York City.
And no, I didn’t finish writing a novel. I didn’t even get close to the 50,000 word goal I set, the goal I fulfilled last year.
But I did get time with my family and date time with my husband. I did find inspiration in sunsets and sunrises, in foggy mornings and cold blue water, in sweet little people and a three-act play.
In another lifetime I was a workaholic. I have those tendencies to shut away the rest of the world and hole up with my computer and a cup of tea, crafting stories and thoughts, writing words that will be read and will remain unread. Because there’s no better way to become a better writer than by writing.
This is what I blog about. Living. These are the days I want to remember. I think I’m getting better at this living thing, doing more of what I want to do like reading and exercising and traveling and noticing the colors that surround me.
Sunset. Filtered but still not as spectacular as the real thing.
Date night to see The Hound of the Baskervilles, courtesy of the Seattle Repertory Theatre.
“I’m coming honey! I just have to change the baby’s diaper!”
Greeting Grammy and Grampy as they arrive on our side of the lake by boat.
What’s out there?
Grammy and Gigi paddle boating.
Emile and Connor.
Exactly 28 weeks pregnant & 28.5 years on the 28th of November.
Loving on my squishy nephew.
Gigi loving on her cousin.
My sister and her boy.
Downtown Seattle for the Macy’s Parade.