Labor day

There was no Zumba class I could go to today on account of Labor Day.

Zounds, zut alors and fie!

There was one class but it was at Eastern Hills all the way across town at 9:15 a.m. when I was still in my pajamas and drinking coffee. Beyond that they must have figured we did not need our exercise.

At least I got a lot of work done. I did not leave the house all day! I worked on my Leonard Pennario book. That is a snapshot of me up above, working on it! I worked on all these tough chapters, editing and moving things around. This book is like a giant mosaic. All the little shards have to fit together just right. But you know what, when something fits together, it gives you such a good feeling.

Sometimes I just step back and go, "Oh. Oh, that's nice. That works."

I do not know if the rest of my life I will love a book the way I love this one. I mean, I hope I go on to write other books. But I cannot imagine loving any one as much as this.

Even if the whole world hates this book I will love it!

So I sat there in my pajamas and worked on this book. Then when it got to be too indecent a time to be in my pajamas, around noon, I changed my clothes. I had a snack. I drank a can of Shur-Fine Diet White Birch Beer. I wrote some more. I edited some more and moved more things around.

I said: "Oh, that's nice. That works."

Suddenly it was 8 p.m. and I had to make dinner so I did that.

And there it sits, my day. It is funny, my friend Michelle told me lastnight when we were drinking wine on my porch, she said I had such discipline, working on this book. I said Michelle, the thing is, I love it.

Working on the book is as much fun as Zumba-ing which to me is high praise. It is like going swimming on a beautiful hot day. The tragedy of my life right now is I do not have enough time to work on it. When I get a nice day with no one yelling outside and preferably rain falling, and quiet, I just love it. And I get so few days like that. You do not realize until you are trying to do something like this how much of your life is packaged and sold and spoken for. And even when you do have the time you struggle with noise and disruption and distraction.

I read once how Jane Austen wrote books while being constantly interrupted. She worked in her father's parsonage, if I remember correctly. And people would come to the door and whenever there was a knock she had to take all her papers and put them away in a drawer.

And still she wrote that intricate "Emma" and "Pride and Prejudice" and the rest.

Well, whatever she went through, it cannot be worse or more challenging that what I am going through. Let us keep things in perspective here.

But still, an inspiration.