Home again. Normalcy returns to our lives. Maureen's off at the squad board meeting. I've umpired (what may be the last game for several weeks). Our long weekend with extended family at Shelter Island, N.Y., is now a pleasant memory.
We've come home with fantasies, however, of how our lives could be better. A home on the island, which we'd also use as a business for us both. A B&B perhaps, with a coffee house nearby or even attached. Music and readings. Assorted ways of making us unique on the island as far as B&Bs go. The dream of making the place available for certain weeks for family, free of charge of course. Worrying about little details like how our cat Riley would fare on the long ride out; half a dose of Dramamine for our little boy.
Yet, I must call them fantasies right now because we don't have the financial capacity to achieve these goals, and likely will not soon. A journalism job is not lucrative. Only my book ideas appear to have the ability to turn lead into gold -- and even they may fall like lead.
As usual, it all comes down to putting in the time and having a goal to achieve. Laziness comes too easily to me.
This afternoon, when we got home, I mowed the lawn. Then I went and umpired my game (another blowout). After the game, with Maureen at her meeting, I decided to jog. That makes three consecutive days -- the first time I've done that in years.
My goal is to join my brother Bob in a marathon later this year. It will require the same type of dedication I must put to my novel; I believe they can complement each other. After dinner, I will reopen the novel. I might only write a few words, but this will be a new beginning.
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