Well, instead of posting my usual drivel here, I've been trying to write a novel for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). Trying because Adam has been working Saturdays, and I'm stuck solo parenting. Last weekend I fell behind in my word count, and I’m struggling to catch up. I’m not sure that I will make the deadline. Because I can’t multi-task. Or stay up past 11PM. Boo-hoo.
Last Sunday we had a power outage at Wellington Road. It was an individual fault, our second in five years. I was supposed to be baking a cake for the cake stall at the school fair. But, no. Instead we put the meat and fish that I had just bought in the chilly bin (Kiwi for cooler). And made coffee on the camping stove.
And there was the school fair. Sans cake.
How am I supposed to write a novel when life keeps interrupting me?
Yesterday was Thanksgiving. As you can imagine (and I've probably mentioned), Thanksgiving in New Zealand is pointless. There are no comparable Kiwi holidays. But Adam humours me. Because on holidays I turn into a sentimental sap.
The weather has just turned scorching hot. Spring lamb on the barbecue, asparagus, and strawberries make more sense than a big roast dinner to celebrate an abundant harvest. Some years I have plans to create a merry and festive Thanksgiving ritual. Of course none of these plans actually happen. Maybe next year.
I am grateful for the abundance of good things in my life. Even more so after the recent tragedy with the 29 Pike River miners in New Zealand. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Unmagical thinking - I know people talk about the transformative power of grief, and I know that there’s supposed to be some alchemy whereby you internalize the person you lost...