It's late Saturday evening and I forgot, again, that I was supposed to blog today. I'm doing that a lot lately. So I sit here wondering why I couldn't have remembered such a simple thing. Did I not care enough, am I mentally lazy? Am I getting Alzheimer? What's wrong with me?
Then I think of how my day went, the pressure to finish my book and get it to my editor, the nagging need to get the church cookbook, of which I am somehow chairman again, finished and to the publisher by the end of the month so we can take advantage of discounts, the frantic call to catch my husband and tell him his affair has been cancelled. (He'd already left and I had to figure out a way to get a message to him, because God forbid that he should take a cell phone with him), the niggling irritation because my daughter and her husband want to come spend the afternoon, even though I told her I was up against a deadline, and not only that, but she wants to bring friends. I've been writing at a pretty tight pace, so guess what doesn't get done, the housework.
We have miles of flower beds and a small vegetable garden that takes more time than a twenty acre farm. Then there are my great grandchildren who come and need to run in and give me kisses. My heart turns over with love when they do that. Then they're out the door and on their way and I miss them already. When I look back over this day I realize how much I had planned and failed to accomplice, but what is failure? I got kisses from my wonderful great grandchildren, hugs and laughter from my daughter and her friends. A special breakfast out with my husband and an entertaining supper at a small country restaurant that makes excellent food and gives you plenty of it and provides entertainment in the form of local country singers.
I got 3,000 words done, typed in about 30 more recipes on that cookbook and even got my dishes in the dishwasher. I had a wonderful day. Where is there failure in any of that? Sometimes I think we set ourselves such large tasks, that we lose sight of when we're succeeding, when we take a moment to sit on the patio and chat, when we sit across the breakfast table in our favorite restaurant with the man we've shared so many years with, when we share laughter at a news show. (I won't say which one), when we get sweet kisses from grandchildren, listen to a local artist offering his songs for our enjoyment, sharing a recipe with the restaurant cook. How can there be failure in such a day? I think today I did not fail at all!