There is glop coming out of the sky, a heavy, wet snow that alternates with freezing rain. It’s warm enough that it’s not really accumulating, except for a kind of slop that will freeze overnight and be thoroughly unpleasant.
I am very ready for winter to be over. It’s been miserable, full of problems, hassles, and expenses. We ran out of wood. So we are paying for heat. The kids haven’t been able to find anything but part-time work, and I haven’t found anything at all besides a substitute librarian gig that may provide the occasional windfall, but nothing reliable. So we are still not quite making ends meet, in spite of our best efforts.
Back when this catastrophe first came down, I was determined that I would make it somehow. I told myself that I had friends who would help. I was willing to work; all I needed was a break. One break that I had hoped for didn’t materialize, and some of the folks I was relying on weren’t there for me when the chips came down. Welcome the the harsh realities of life.
There have been small successes to celebrate. The last local election went well, good people got elected, most of the important warrant articles passed, and I am proud of my small part in the effort. I broke even at the last convention; sales of my books covered the expenses. I’ve got a possibility of a book deal for my nine-volume series. So far, we have been able to make the mortgage and car loan, even if we are falling behind elsewhere. We are almost through the damn winter, and we’ll start seeing signs of spring soon.
I’m making some changes based on what I’ve learned since having to face life without a partner. I’ve learned what I can do, and what I can’t. I’m stronger than I feared, but not as strong as I’d hoped. I’m still trying to figure out who the hell I actually am, now that I’m not trying to be what someone else expects me to be. What someone else tells me I ought to be.
It’s a process. There will be milestones, but no conclusions. Until, of course, I reach the end of it and the universe claims my parts for recycling.
As always, I’ll write about it. Because being a writer is the one rock-solid thing about myself I’m sure of.