What a Difference a Day (or Two) Made...

Dinah Washington sings a wonderful tune called "What a Difference a Day Made." While the lyrics are romantic in nature, it perfectly shows how much life can change in "24 little hours."

With my daughter gone on a weekend trip, I decided I needed to just cut loose a bit on Friday night. I bought a bottle of wine, FaceTimed one of my best friends, and had my own 90s music dance party in my living room. Just being able to relax and unwind, to let the cares of the week drift away, helped tremendously.

By Saturday morning, my gloomy mood had lifted considerably. I made some decisions regarding the day job (namely talking to co-workers and making a decision to discuss some issues with my boss) and having a plan of action eased my mind. I worked on my novel, took a walk, watched a few good episodes of television, and turned in early.

Today, I worked on my novel again, and lo and behold, I saw the path forward for the rest of the story. I'm super excited about finishing it. It's remarkable how my mood is so connected with my writing. This evening, I also took a nice nature walk and managed to snap some incredible photos. I'm not a professional photographer - I am firmly in the amateur category - but I so enjoy this little hobby of mine. 

Long story short? I feel so much better. 

What a difference a day (or two) made...

Woe Is Me

Maybe it’s because I’m only a year away from 50.

Maybe it’s because I’m burned out.

Or maybe it’s because the Very Worst Season (summer) is upon us, and my brain is beginning to go into deep hermit mode. 

I started a new job this year, one I thought I’d love.

But I don’t. It’s not at all what I expected. Worse, I’m starting to dread it. That’s not how I want to live my life. I need a meaningful day job, one that makes me feel as though I’m making a difference. While this job has that potential, there are too many other issues hampering it (micro-managing, miscommunication, etc., etc.) and long story short, I need to find something else.

But what?

I started buying myself flowers because why the hell not?
I deserve them!

I’ve worked as a writer and editor for my “day job” for more than 20 years. And to be honest, I’d really like to try something else for the day job part of my life (I will always write my fiction - but one cannot make any kind of living that way).

Here’s what I’d really like to do: historical research. I’d love, love, love to be able to research anything from an old manor house’s history in the heart of England to the life of a previously neglected historical personage, or the history of an object or a document, or hell, just about anything.

Finding those types of jobs is like trying to find one ladybug hiding in a field of grass: nearly impossible.

Why is is that the things I love most do not pay? Why must my passions not allow me to make a living wage?

Granted, if I did not have to worry about health insurance in this god-forsaken country, I might be able to cobble together a living doing freelance historical research jobs. But nooooo…I am a human being with chronic health conditions and I need to have decent medical insurance. And I also need a steady paycheck, something that freelancers don’t get for a few years (if ever) while they establish themselves and gain clients. Growing up poor, watching my mother have panic attacks over money, also makes it impossible for me to not have a steady paycheck. Trauma is real, folks. 

What to do, what to do?

I’ve been scouring the jobs boards, looking for positions in publishing, but the jobs are competitive, and I don’t know that I want a job in publishing,. Therefore, I’m trying to open my mind a little to other types of work, but how do you get a job in another field when you’ve spent nearly your entire adult life in the same industry?

Whatever the job is, it needs to be a remote one because my health absolutely will not allow me to go back to an office full time. There are days I can’t leave my bed!

I’m trying to be patient and have faith that the universe will provide me an opportunity when the moment is right. But it is so hard.

And maybe all of this is because of the reasons I mentioned above: I’ll be 49 this year, and that’s one year closer to 50, and OH MY GOD HOW DID THAT HAPPEN? And as we just finished up Memorial Day Weekend, that means summer is upon us, and last summer nearly killed me. I swore I would go to the UK for a month to escape the heat, but I can’t do that because the job I have now WON’T ALLOW IT.

Or maybe I just need to get away for a weekend, go somewhere stimulating, and come home refreshed.

Woe is me indeed.

I am feeling sorry for myself, but this is very discombobulating. I've always known what I've wanted to do - write fiction - and working in the writing/publishing field for the day job has, in the past, been exactly what I wanted to do. Now that I'm having doubts about it, well...it's terrifying, I tell you. And I'd rather not go through another drastic life change! I already moved, started a new job, and broke up with my boyfriend. Can the universe just leave me alone for awhile?!?

Sigh.

One day at a time. I have to remember this.

Staying Focused

Friends, sometimes it is exhausting to try and stay focused on goals.

Eat healthier. Lose weight. Exercise. 

Find a literary agent. Edit the novel. 

Keep working toward my dream of moving to England. 

And there are some days, like today, that I just want to sit on the couch and watch British murder mysteries. 

Last night I did my workout and it was fantastic. Felt good. Strong. Made a healthy dinner. Worked on the novel a bit. Went to bed early and couldn't sleep. Woke up and felt awful. Took an unpaid sick day (which I really can't afford to do, but...). 

I slept a lot and and then moved from bed to couch to start watching the new Palm Royale series on Apple TV which is fantastic. Now I'm watching Father Brown on BritBox and thinking I need to work on the novel.

My beloved Kathryn, who passed 3 yrs ago, knew how to rest!

Which irritates me because, as Devon pointed out in yesterday's post, why do we have such a hard time resting? I feel like if I'm not being productive, even on my days off or even on sick days, for goodness sake, I feel guilt and shame.

Capitalism. Midwestern work ethic. Call it what you will, but it's deeply ingrained in me - and many other Americans. I want to just watch television on a sick day without feeling guilty - maybe indulge in a sweet treat (trying to limit it to once a week except for my daily dark chocolate ration) and relax. Rest. 

I don't know how to combat this. I even felt guilty for taking a sick day. That's not right. 

But!

I'm still going to stay focused on my goals. Today might be a bleh day where I am not productive, don't get in a workout (I can't), and maybe only write a few sentences in the novel, or maybe none at all. And that's okay. 

Now if I can just convince my brain that it's okay!

THERE IT IS

 It's back. 

And who knows for how long? But for this day, for this moment, all is bliss. I'm happy, excited for the future, ready and eager to keep reaching for those dreams.

Is it because February, the hardest month of the year for me, is gone? Is it because for today, all is well at work - i.e. I know what I'm doing? Is it because I just finished watching the finale of the Apple TV show Ted Lasso and am brimming over with tears and a warm feeling in my heart? 

It's all of it and more, I'm sure.

I'm going to grab onto this moment, hold it tight, and remember how good it feels. 

When I work on my novel tonight - after I watch All About Eve with my pals on Twitter (we use the hashtag #TCMParty and live tweet throughout the movie) - I plan to immerse myself deeply into my story, and try to remember why I write: because I love it.

Life Update

I figured something out the other night. Because I lived for years never knowing what was coming around the bend with my then-husband (would he end up in a fight? Come home drunk? Be arrested? Yes, all of these things happened), I lived in a constant state of fight or flight. And even now, years later, when I am in an uncomfortable situation - like learning the processes of a new job - it triggers the fight or flight response. I've had to take deep breaths, remind myself that this is temporary, that I just need to not be afraid to ask questions when I'm unsure of something, and most importantly, to take it slow. 

As far as the novel goes, my editing process is messy, but it seems to work for me. I'm starting to figure out what needs to be changed, and starting to find my groove. Huzzah!

The weather has been unseasonably warm, and the other night I found a tick on my scalp. Yes, a TICK. I was appalled. A tick? In March?!? Climate change is really messing with the world.

And finally, I have to share this amazing sign that my niece made for me for my new apartment. Some day, I want to hang it in my home in England. 

Reminder: Art Is Subjective

Today I received a rejection from an agent on a full manuscript request.

It stung.

While she said she was initially drawn in by my story and premise (yay, the query letter worked!), she ultimately didn't fall in love with the execution of it. 

*sob*

Yes, I know this business is subjective. There are lots of published novels I've read that I've scratched my head at, wondering how they managed to make it from agent to editor to published novel. 

But I admit to being quite deflated today, and the self-doubt began to creep in.

What if I really am not good at writing novels?

That's a terrifying thought. Writing fiction is in my blood. I've been doing it since I was 12 years old. I can't fathom doing anything else.

So I've had to just confront this head on and realize that while this agent didn't fall in love with my story, I know one will. I have to keep the faith. I have to believe in myself and my abilities.

Life Update

I've been at my job for nearly two months now, and I'm starting to settle in and find my way around. It's much more challenging than my last job (which is what I wanted) and this means I am more mentally tired at the end of the day. I don't have as much energy to devote to my writing, especially when I'm having a flare (I've had two bad ones in the last month). I'm still trying to squeeze in a bit of editing every day in hopes that it will all add up to a finished novel. It makes me realize, though, how age and my health have so affected my energy levels. When my kids were young, I was working full-time, parenting, dealing with an abusive marriage, and doing about three freelance jobs plus working on my novel. How did I do all of that? 

Ultimately, I'd like to work part-time and write the rest of the time...while living in England.

Yes, that is the ultimate goal! 

The weather has been glorious here with temperatures in the 50s and 60s. I've tried to take as many walks as my body would allow, and it's been nice to be out in the warm sunshine.

I Just Don't Know...

I think I expect too much of myself. 

Every day, I expect myself to do the following:

1) Be awesome at the day job

2) Cook and eat a healthy supper

3) Keep up on the housework 

4) Exercise

5) Write

That's not a bad list, right? That should be doable every single day. When I accomplish all of those things, I feel amazing and damn proud of myself. 

But when I don't accomplish them all? When one of my chronic illnesses strikes and I'm too exhausted to cook, do housework, and barely have the energy to just sit and watch television? I feel like a damn failure.

I have a theory that life is a constant cycle that is always interrupted. We follow a routine - we get up, we go to work, we eat, we do the things we want to do (read, write, watch t.v., exercise, etc.), we go to bed, we sleep, we get up and do it all over again. 

But then come the interruptions. The sickness. The bad day at work. The medical appointment that brings bad news. Family issues. Relationship issues. Pandemics. Politics. And on and on and on...

We can try and plan our days and stick to our routines, but life interrupts us. Constantly. 

I need to learn to just roll with it, and not beat myself up if I don't fill in those little circles on my planner for each activity I hope to accomplish every day. There's something to be said for being consistent and for attempting to stick to your daily goals. But it's also okay to realize that hey, if you're in the middle of a flare, you don't have to exercise because if you do, you'll make yourself worse. Or if you had an extremely bad day at the day job, it's okay to watch television all night instead of work on the novel because if you tried to write, only complete crap would emerge.

Bottom line, I need to show myself grace. 

I love, love, LOVE this artwork
Artist: J.C. Leyendecker

Life Update

I'm just now getting over a flare that lasted almost ten days, and it was a doozy. Worse, I have no PTO at the new job until my "introductory period" (90 days) is over. That is beyond frustrating. I ended up taking an unpaid day and that's money lost that I really can't afford. It makes me realize that even though I have to wait for my PTO, at least I will have it. So many people do not have sick leave. 

This flare also reminded me of how sick I really am. I am not exactly sure what caused it (I did have a date night with my boyfriend and had two Moscow Mules, but I think it's just the enormity of the move, the new job, the holidays, etc., etc., finally came crashing down on me, and my body said ENOUGH. I still am not back to my baseline, and I'm trying not to push myself. These flares leave me terrified that one day I will not recover, that I will end up bedridden like so many patients with ME/CFS. How would I take care of myself financially if that happens? What about insurance for medical bills, etc.? Which brings me to the horror of the American healthcare system. Get sick, go broke. That's about the long and short of it.

Sigh.

I'm back to working on my novel, but I'm still trying to adjust to the new job. There's just so much more to learn, and while it will become second nature to me at some point, it's still mentally draining to work through it all. My cognitive issues (memory issues, recall, mixing up my words, etc.) that come with ME/CFS are not helping matters. However, I am very happy that my employer set a meeting up with me to discuss accommodations, and they have already made arrangements for a few things. It feels good to know I work for a company that values my health and wants to make sure I have what i need to get the job done.

Betrayed By My Body

 I've been doing pretty well with my exercise routine. I love the ease of using my walking pad, and how I can just slide it under the bed when I'm finished. Much better than that huge treadmill.

So tonight, when I hopped on the walking pad, put on my music, and started walking, I looked forward to listening to some good tunes and getting a burst of adrenaline. Then out of nowhere, my head began to throb. I tried to ignore it, considering I'd just had a migraine on Sunday, and had given myself all day yesterday to recover. I thought my headphones might be too tight, so I loosened them, but that didn't work. I took down my hair and clipped it at the base of my neck. That didn't work, either. I still kept pushing.

But the longer I walked, the worse my head felt. I finally admitted defeat and by the time I stepped off the walking pad, I had a full-blown migraine I have no idea what caused it. 

A few hours later, it's finally calmed down to a dull roar, but I am so damn frustrated. I wanted to exercise, craved it, in fact, after two days of inactivity. Yet again, my body betrayed me. Instead of exercising, then working on my novel, I had to put both those things on hold. Again.

I've lived with migraines since high school. While Botox shots every three months keep them at bay for the most part, I still live with daily headaches. I've exhausted treatment options and medications. Even when I have a migraine, I can't find a medicine that works to treat it (my neurologist and I have tried so many that I've lost count). 

So I suffer. 

Sigh.

This sounds like a "poor me" post. It's really just a "I'm frustrated so I need to vent" post. That's the beauty of blogging. I can write whatever I like.

To top all this off, another agent rejection showed up in my inbox. I'm about done trying to sell this novel. No one wants it. Might as well accept it at this point, and keep moving forward on the current WIP.

Though you'd think a novel about fascism and antisemitism in WW2 America might be relevant right about now...but who can understand the publishing business? Not me.

I'll leave you with one of my favorite pieces of art that I saw on my Scotland trip.

This piece, entitled "Reverend Walker" was painted by Sir Henry Raeburn and hangs in the National Galleries of Scotland in Edinburgh. I bought a print of this and it's currently hanging in my apartment

The Dreaded R Word: Routine

For years, I didn't think I did well with routines. I was a free spirit! Just let me do whatever, whenever!

Hahahahaha. 

The last two weeks have shown me how completely and totally wrong I am. I need a routine. I thrive when I'm in a routine. I feel better physically and emotionally when I'm in a routine. I can hardly believe it, yet it's the truth.

Ever since the pandemic hit and I started working from home full time, I pretty much created my own schedule. There were some days, if I wasn't feeling good, that I would sleep in, then just work extra hours. Other days, I'd work a fairly regular schedule. But in the last year or so, I really had no schedule at all. I did the work, did it well, and met my deadlines. But my sleep schedule was all over the place, and there were days I was working on day job stuff at 1 p.m.

Not ideal.

I loved it, though, as I could set my own hours. I felt as though I had an immense amount of freedom, and that is certainly true. If I needed to take a few hours in the afternoon to run some errands, I could do it, then just work some extra hours later. Other days, I'd be up super early, do some work, then sleep another few hours, do some work, and then I'd crawl into bed around 2:30 a.m. or so. Some nights it was earlier; others, it was later. I guess it was a kind of routine, but my mood and how I felt physically was all over the place.

I didn't realize how all over the place it was until I started my new job. Up at 8. Steady work throughout the day with a lunch break. And then quit at 5 p.m. I now go to bed around midnight or 1 a.m. (still need to make it closer to midnight) which means I have about seven hours to do what needs to be done after 5 p.m.: working on freelance projects, reading, exercising, and writing. I always watch a movie or a few episodes of TV every day, and lately, I've started playing Tetris on my daughter's old PlayStation 2. It helps me to unwind. (I need to get back to my jigsaw puzzles!)

I've noticed a significant difference in how I feel emotionally and physically. It reminds me of when I was staying at home with my kids, and thought I had all the time in the world to write, to exercise, to do whatever I wanted. I didn't end up finishing the novel I began when my daughter was a baby until she was five years old and I'd started working full time. I joined Curves (remember Curves?) and started working out. In other words, I had a set routine that forced me to make time for my writing and prioritize my health.

Of course, even with my weird schedule of the last few years, I finished two novels - in fact, I wrote a novel in less than nine months. That's because I made a promise to myself to work on it nearly every day, and I kept that promise. I also worked out whenever I could. But I had a lot more days when I felt pretty rotten. 

I still have days where I feel rotten because fibromyalgia and ME/CFS don't take vacations. But they seem to be behaving themselves because I'm on a routine. 

I'm also inclined to think it's something else: I no longer live with a man.

Trauma does crazy things to our bodies. I lived with a narcissistic, abusive man for 18 years (which is why I developed fibromyalgia and ME/CFS) and my body was constantly in fight or flight mode. While my boyfriend is nothing like my ex-husband, he is still a man, and I really do think my body never felt safe in our shared home. Now that I'm in my own space, my body does feel safe. That's my theory, anyway.

So. The dreaded Routine, a lifestyle I eschewed for so long, has now become my best friend.

Who'd have thought?

And...Breathe

It's been ten years since I've had to have a "first day on the new job" experience. I forgot how terrifying it can be. When last Tuesday morning rolled around, the first day of the job, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. But I made it through, tucking away my terrified introvert and putting on my extrovert persona, but doubts began to plague me: had I made the right decision? Would I be a good fit for this company? Would my coworkers like me? I felt overwhelmed and unsure. But I kept telling myself, "This is normal, completely normal. Give yourself time to adjust."

As the days went by and I started to meet more coworkers and learn more about the products, our process, etc., the anxiety started to ease. By last Friday, it had disappeared, and I knew I was in the right place. It's a challenge to learn a new job and tackle new projects, but I welcome it. I'd grown stagnant at my last job and that was one of the reasons I wanted and needed a different job.

There will be challenges ahead, of course, and perhaps some difficult times. But I'm staying the course.

Oddly enough, the biggest adjustment I had to make was my sleep schedule! That has improved, as well. 

I'm also back to exercising. I bought a walking pad and have used it a few times now, and it's so easy to just slide it under the bed when I'm finished. I'm trying to eat healthy because I need to lose some weight for health reasons, but it's proving difficult. Still. One day at a time, and lots of grace!

The new walking pad!

I've returned to editing my novel, and feel fully immersed in the story. Even better? I'm excited about it again! 

Life is starting to settle into a routine. I've discovered I need a routine to stay on track and accomplish my goals. In fact, I'm making all sorts of discoveries about myself. I feel healthier emotionally and physically living without my partner. I don't know exactly what that means, but for right now, I'm going to embrace it and accept it. 

The last two months definitely stretched me, but in good ways. 

I'll take it!

Here Comes Winter

 On Christmas morning, after we'd opened our presents, my dad would jokingly say, "Christmas is over!" We three kids would protest, tell him that we had yet to visit our other set of grandparents for gifts. 

While I have never celebrated Boxing Day (though if I do want to move to the U.K. some day, I should start, right?) or observed all 12 days of Christmas, I should start. Two days - Christmas Eve and Christmas Day - simply aren't enough to celebrate the holiday. I always feel a bit melancholy on the day after Christmas. There's such a build-up to it, and then, POOF, it's over. 

It was just the three of us this year - me, my daughter, and my boyfriend. We didn't do anything special - just ate good food, opened presents, and watched Christmas movies. It snowed on Christmas Day and we had a white Christmas which I always love. I received some wonderful gifts, including an action figure Robin Hood from the Disney movie (my daughter gave me the Prince John action figure last year!) and I was happy my daughter and boyfriend enjoyed their gifts from me. That's probably my favorite part of Christmas.

I allowed myself to eat whatever I wanted these past few weeks, not only because it's Christmas, but because my gosh, I didn't need to monitor my food intake after moving and sorting and unboxing for a solid three weeks. But the last sugar cookie is now in my belly, and while we still have some leftovers from Christmas dinner (stuffing! mashed potatoes! ham!), those will be gone in a few days, as well. 

I did manage to walk for 15 minutes on my new walking pad. It will take some getting used to. I'm not sure it has the support I really need because my knees were killing me afterwards. But, that could be my crappy shoes, too, which squeak like I'm walking on a wet floor all the time, so I zipped over to Amazon and ordered me a new pair because let's just keep on adding to the credit card bill, right? 

On Winter and Writing

The beautiful snowfall yesterday beckoned me today, and I went out for a few minutes to snap some pictures. I am so, so fortunate to live in an apartment that looks out onto a woodland area. There's a bubbling creek mere steps away from my patio, birds twitter among the treetops in the morning, and the other day, a fat raccoon just ambled by in broad daylight. I just love it.

I signed up for a winter writing sanctuary hosted by Beth Kempton, and today I did some writing prompts on winter as a warm up for the course. It was rather lovely to think of the aspects of winter I enjoy, and there are many: cuddling under a blanket by the fire with a good book or to watch a movie, the bright lights of Christmas, the snow dusting the trees, the chilly wind blowing outside while I'm toasty warm in my bed...

Of course, there's some things I don't enjoy about winter. February has been a very hard month for me since 2017. That's when I found out my now ex-husband was cheating on me; the next year, my grandmother died in February; and the year after that, my beloved Kathryn, a cat I'd had since 2009, died a tragic, terrible death (she died in my arms - talk about trauma). I barely made it through last February.  I watched a lot of British murder mysteries and didn't do much more than that. Barely got any writing done and just counted myself lucky to wake up each morning. 

I hope this year is different. I hope living in this new apartment, and starting this new life, will make a difference. Of course, traumaversaries don't much care how good you're feeling in life - they have a tendency to make their presence known. But we'll see what happens.

I'm back to editing my novel, and had some new ideas hit me the other night while I was trying to sleep (I actually remembered them in the morning!). I'm starting to incorporate them, and I know they will add depth and nuance to the overall story. 

One thing I really hope to do with this writing sanctuary is to rediscover my joy of writing. I remember those heady days of my youth, when I'd forego attending high school basketball games or going out with friends so I could write. I'd sit at home on a Friday night, writing on my little desk, with a blue pen and lined sheets of paper. I wrote and wrote, and I don't remember it being as hard as it is now. 

Is it because the more you write, the more aware you become of all the story elements you must include? Is it because we are wiser, more jaded, trying to write for an audience and trying to write so no one will leave one-star reviews? I think that's a lot of it. I've always said you should write the first draft with your heart and the second with your head, and that still holds true. But I want to be able to still find joy in the process. Sometimes, I'll sit down and not even want to work on editing the novel because it just seems so overwhelming. Other times, like tonight, I know what my goal is - and I break it into small chunks so it's not as intimidating. Why can't I always do the latter instead of the former? Because I have a squirrel brain, always hopping from one branch to the other, chasing after acorns and other shiny objects instead of focusing on the task at hand. Sometimes I do wonder if I have ADHD - but more likely it's the result of having my brain rewired due to the Internet. Right now, there are six tabs open on my screen, and I've been sorely tempted to check Twitter or Facebook while I've been writing this post. Social media has robbed us of our attention and focus. I've thought about deleting those apps from my phone, but the thing is, I really enjoy interacting with my Twitter friends (if I stay away from the terrible Holocaust deniers and white supremacists on Twitter, it's much more enjoyable - yes, that place is brimming with horrible people). The key is, I suppose, to limit my time on those apps and learn some strategies to keep my squirrel brain from kicking into gear when I need to be writing.

I have a week until I start the new job - and I plan to enjoy ever minute of it.

Settling In

Today was the last day of a job I've had for ten years. It didn't end with me celebrating, or doing a dance, but quietly, with me checking my email to make sure I'd dotted all the i's and crossed all the t's. Found a few outstanding tasks I took care of, and then I closed the email program for good. 

It was a bittersweet moment. But I'm very excited for the new job - it starts Jan. 2.

That means I have an entire 10 days to relax and dive back into my novel.

With the apartment all settled - everything has been moved, unpacked, and put away - I've been trying to take a deep breath and relax. But being on the go for the past month has somehow made it hard to just sit and be. I feel like I need to keep doing something even if there's nothing to do.

I'm sure those feelings will pass, but it has made it harder to become fully immersed in my novel. Why, though, do I have this need to immediately jump into a new task instead of resting and recovering? A few reasons, I suppose. One, I'm anxious to return to my writing as I've had exactly ZERO time, energy, and mental capacity for it over the past month. Two, society's conditioned me to believe I need to be productive all the damn time. Devon discussed this in one of her posts the other day, and I couldn't agree more. I have been productive - so much so that I probably put my health at risk - and now my body is telling me to slow down. My brain, however, doesn't want to listen. But it's gonna have to!

I still need to get through Christmas. I have presents to wrap, but I've decided not to do any baking this year. Instead, I bought some cookies from the grocery store bakery as well as some Christmas candy. I have been gorging on both, and damn it, I am not going to feel guilty for it. I ordered a new walking pad (having no room for my old treadmill in the apartment) and that will arrive in a few days. I'm looking forward to getting back to my exercise. 

The new year will definitely feel like a fresh start in so many ways: new apartment, new job, new dedication to creating a different life! I want to focus on ME now, and that means focusing on my health, dropping some weight (for health reasons, but also because I feel better when I don't carry an extra 20 lbs), reading and writing more, and trying to finally break some bad habits. One day at a time!

This was a big project - part of my Snoopy collection!

Whew! In many ways, I feel like I haven't been able to take a breath since I returned from Scotland. Now's my chance, and I need to take it.