Today is my birthday. 33. It feels like it's going to be a big year. This past year was awesome, heart-wrenching, and amazing. It got the ball rolling for so many good things.
This year: so many more good things.
Today: so many things to do, including attending a first grade preview evening at Bean's school (marking another thing that fills me with wonder: I'm going to have a six year old in a month.)
Tomorrow: a little more downtime to share a new list with you. 34 before 34. I think I did pretty well on my list for this past year (on the right sidebar.) Certain things just stopped being as important (query letters), or realistic (like camping with a toddler or making croissants from scratch: what was I thinking?) The manuscript is in progress. Thursdays and Fridays are my writing days. It takes so much to birth a book. So many hours stitched together. I get antsy when I don't get the time. I love every minute when I do, although there are still days when the whole thing terrifies me and I procrastinate something fierce.
There is something wonderfully satisfying about making such a list. The simple act of writing each small or big dream down pulls them closer to realization. I am convinced. (Do you write yearly lists? If you do, I'd love for you to share.)