“Spring is the time of plans and projects.” – Leo Tolstoy
“Blah, blah, blah.” – Iggy Pop
It’s been a while since I wrote one of those blogs posts that say, “I did this. I’m gonna do some of that. Right now I’m doing blah, blah, blargedy blah.” You know, just a blah, blah blog post.
It’s just hard for me to get into. It’s difficult for me yammer on about the boring little details of our life here in our tiny but perfect little corner of France. I like to keep a lot of things private. You may not think so with my nonsense & chatter on the Internet, but it’s true. Like, a few months ago, when I ate that bad sandwich & almost pooped myself in the Aldi, I didn’t say a word to you about that. Private.
However, it’s sometimes necessary to say, “I did this. I’m gonna do some of that. Right now I’m doing blah, blah, blargedy blah.”
Little bursts of color are popping up all over the place in my yard. The arachnid community in & around my house has started making its presence known again. I can now enjoy the sunlight as early as 8am, or as late as 7pm. The temperatures have steadily climbed from holy-shit-it’s-goddamn-cold & have been hanging around in the sixties.
Speaking strictly Fahrenheit, of course.
It’s spring. Almost. During the time since last spring, we’ve been busy. We’ve been tired & frustrated. We’ve experienced pure joy. So, you, know… we’ve just been living life.
But, it’s been a pretty busy year.
After we returned from Greece last spring, we set to packing & preparing for our move into our new house. Olivier & I were fed up with apartment living. We’d grown tired of cities, smog & screaming humans jumping & stomping above us.
After our searching & a bit of humiliation pertaining to the fact that I have a bladder the size of an acorn, we found the house. We ended up displaced for about a week, but it was summer. The two of us & our little cat, we made the most of it.
We had a lot of picnics in the park.
Before long, we were signing the final papers, unlocking the door of our new house.
Okay. No, seriously. Then we unlocked the door of our new house. For the reallys.
We spent the summer settling into our new digs. Unpacking. Cleaning. Getting a few bits of furniture that we needed. I focused on getting my writing space set up, getting Olivier’s home office organized & putting the guest room together all while lacking any storage space in our kitchen & battling for a minimum internet connection.
We’re still not finished with all those things. That’s home ownership: a never-ending project. We still have no land line telephone, but… whatever. It hasn’t been such a big deal because we finally got an Internet connection. At least we got that kitchen problem sorted out & my writing space is good. I’m in it right now. It’s nice.
As it grew darker & colder outside, we huddled around our fireplace with books, wine & bad movies. Thanksgiving came & went. We managed to get through Christmas & New Year’s quietly & without incident.
Only one thing was missing.
So with the house situation resolved, the writing space put together & the addition of the little doggie we lacked, I should have been productive as hell. I should have written dozens of stories. A novella or two. A novel or a pile of poems.
Not really. I don’t write poetry. But you get my point.
At least, I should have finished another book. Okay, but I haven’t. A few people have asked me about it. My answer was & still is: “It’s coming. I’m working on it.”
Actually, I’m working on three. This is good, but not good. So, I’ve chosen one to focus on & have managed to get a few short stories & bits of flash fiction done. I’ve been sending them out. I’ve been working on a steady stream of rejections.
I don’t archive my published fiction on this site. I do, however, keep a list on the Stories tab up above. If you want to read stuff, you can go click around on there & read some shit. I put it there especially for you.
In the year ahead, until next spring… who knows? I’ll definitely have the next book done. I’ll likely have more things finished around the house & will be able to tell another ridiculous tale of another incident involving my fragile bowels or freakishly tiny bladder.
What’s sure is that we’ll get out of this house & venture out into the world again. There’s a possibility of us landing on American soil for the first time in… what? Almost three years. (I am still American. Really.) We’ll be flying down the highway next month, taking a tour of Italy to geek out on ruins & other groovy historical shit. Also, doing a bit of research. Sort of. For that one writing project I’ve chose to focus on. No, really.
What? I could be doing research. You don’t know.
And when the dust settles again… blah, blah, blargedy blah blog.