Here is another review for Click.. The reviewer liked it but didn't love it. I figure this is what one should expect for a good novel. If everyone loves it, well that would be like being loved by everyone, which sounds good but is most likely terrible.
Hope to do some useful things today. Which would be some submissions. Some writing. I should hope and dwell in hope. Thank you, Emily. I should like also to fit into your white dress ivory dress your driven snow. Speaking of which, it snowed spit freezing things here yesterday. Which is about all we ever get. My phone said ice pellets. This morning my phone said freezing fog. Image freezing fog. It would be a monster. I would overtake us. We would have no choice but to pull all its teeth, which is a perfect way to subdue a toothy monster.
Need to hear from contractor soon. Need to haggle over price. A bit. Maybe. Need things explained. Almost don’t want to, just want to go ahead and whatever, but the “bid” was $4,251 for all the things on my list. I have decided not to do the painting, the closet shelves, or replace the tub. He told me not doing the painting would save $600. Now, the new bid is $4,100. I need this explained to me. If it only cost a hundred to put in a new tub, I may get a new tub. But I am torn on this. The original tub cannot be replaced—the house was built in 1942. I thought at first that I wanted a new shiny tub, still cast iron. But after some thought, I think the juxtaposition of the old tub and its antique integrity, makes more sense. But the tub has that inevitable grey spot in the floor. Is that charming? Like peeling paint? Why is peeling paint so charming? Old French houses.
Oh. Contractor just emailed me saying that he made a mistake. Should have new figure in a second. That in and of itself awakened me. I dwell in hope.
I cannot say enough how much I love this workshop. “Writing as Worship” A way of finding God reaching for God which means knowing yourself reaching for yourself catching yourself. These women are hungry to shovel it out, whatever it is. There is no more excellent a shovel as a pen. Or keyboard. Or God forbid a pencil. A mechanical pencil. I hate mechanical pencils. And stritching sounds. However, I love pastels.
Here’s to the day. Even more sun now. This will be a good day. I feel it.