the waiting game

My astrological reading for this week urged me to keep moving: “You think you’re stuck in a rut, but you’re not.” I do feel like I’m playing the waiting game—contracts, editorial feedback, checks, this reluctant peony—they’re all overdue. But that fact doesn’t prevent me from living my life. On Saturday I forced myself out of the house to go see a puppet presentation of artists participating in an incubator initiative through the Chicago Puppet Festival. I actually bought tickets for the show on Thursday as well, but didn’t make it. Which is why I wasn’t mad at all the folks who registered for our event on Wednesday at the University of Chicago and then didn’t show up. We still had an excellent conversation and the small group of attendees was very engaged; I made up new slides for my part of the presentation and I’m sure I’ll use those again for future events. So I missed the puppet show on Thursday but managed to write a thousand words a day last week so the novel is progressing. The show on Saturday was *so* inspiring and instructive—there was a wide range of styles and themes, and no one in the audience cared that the performances weren’t perfect. Things got dropped and knocked over but the stories were compelling and you were rooting for the puppeteers so it really didn’t matter. The point of a lab is to give you time and space to experiment. I need to remember that. I haven’t touched my toy theater in over a week. Sticking my spider legs on with velcro wasn’t working out and so I just stopped everything. I want perfect tableaux but that isn’t what puppetry is meant to be/do…my cohort has another meeting this Friday, which I will attend from Toronto. That trip is a little stressful but I’m just trying to keep my expectations low and go with the flow. Late last night I remembered I have to register with ArriveCan and so got my passport and vaccination card scanned and uploaded to the app. Earlier in the day I went to the Hyde Park Community Art Fair with friends and found a lovely painting for my home. Got back in time to attend the New York Historical Society’s family book club; they were reading Ship of Souls, which was published a decade ago, so I just answered a few questions and offered advice for aspiring writers. Didn’t quite follow my own advice (“set aside time each day to do nothing but write”) but sat in front of the TV for the rest of the day and still managed to write a new introduction for Book #5. Ran on the treadmill this morning since rain’s expected all day and then collected my googly eyes from the mailroom; I’m ready to give Anansi another try. Found a notice from the IRS in my mailbox telling me I should expect my 2020 refund soon…good things come to those who wait, right? But God helps those who help themselves, too. I’m not in limbo. I’m not in a rut. I ran by the lake last week but left my pedometer at home—and that’s ok. We’re having another online conversation next week that may or may not be well attended. But the conversation is sure to be wonderful with two friends serving as hosts and moderators. Join us if you can!