all kinds of progress

And (ab0ve and below) preparing for long days in the writing chair after Christmas. This is progress, too.

preparing for the work ahead

Just home from three days on the road, my last travel of the year. Thanks so much to everyone at Ridgeview School and Rock Springs School in Tennessee. I saw students in grades K through 8, spoke at a family literacy night, and worked a half-day with teachers. Whew. We had fun and did good work together.

Today is for re-entry.

So I'm not going to write every day in December. I might not write any days in December. I know people who write rings around me and accomplish more in a day than I do in a week. But I also know that I will soon be in the pink chair with the laptop for hours upon hours each day... and like a warrior preparing for battle, this is part of how I prepare. And so. Patting myself back together and putting systems in place, here I sit on a cold December day, preparing for the work ahead.

seized by the day

Well, it's December. The month I declared I would write a bit each day. Instead (and I don't think this is avoidance), I've been seized by.... something.

A sense of well-being. A je ne sais quoi. A que sera sera, as Franny might say in Countdown. I'm following my nose, my gut, my sensibilities as life presents itself. I'm going with it, slip-sliding in the stream of well-being, listening to what it tells me. These times in my life have been rare, and this feeling is perhaps fleeting; I don't want to dictate to it.

I want to listen.

I wanted a project to complete over the Thanksgiving weekend. I decided to finally paint the family room walls molasses. That's the color; molasses. I ignored my feeling of well-being that said I could do anything I wanted. I told it to stand back! I had work to do that weekend, for I was preparing to write a bit every day in December and wouldn't have time for this painting then, and I've been wanting to do this for months and months. The chalkboard wall gave me the audacity to do it.

It did not turn out well.

We tried to love it. We sat there without speaking but knowing each other's thoughts. Finally, Jim said, "I feel like I'm sitting inside a UPS truck." ha! I did, too.

So the very next day I Kilzed it.

Better. I don't know what color we'll end up painting the room (which now has a name: Libby (Irene was lonely)), but at least we're not sitting inside a UPS truck awaiting delivery.

And the split pea soup is good.

::grateful for::

:: walls to paint.

Remember that wall I painted orange for my birthday a year and a half ago?

It's not orange anymore. I covered it with chalkboard paint and it became an integral part of Thanksgiving dinner this year. I envision it holding all kinds of messages and lists and sayings over the years. I think I've got it just right now.

:: family.

Look closely and you'll find a gratitude list in photographs and even in words, high above the window... love that addition. Thank you, Jim.

:: those who pitch in.

Those who eat. Those who clean up. Those who appreciate. Thank you, my baker.

::good work to do.

I know it's almost December and we'll be racing headfirst into the holidays, I know I have one more trip this year, to two elementary schools in East Tennessee next week, but I am still going to try to write every day in December. Okay, maybe not Christmas Day, we'll see how it goes.

For the first time in ten years, I plan to be home more than away next year -- home almost all year long. I've been planning and scheming for this year, and I think finally I can swing it.

I'm grateful for this coming year of writing -- a writing intensive. I want to get a head start on that year in December. So on December 1, I will tiptoe back into my novel. I'll write about that process, here.

I'm also going to use December to set up next year's writing year. I'll chronicle that here, too. I don't exactly know how it will work, but I have ideas. I may never have another year like this one to write and write and write in, and I want to use it wisely. I have lots and lots... and lots... of ideas, and stories I want to write.

I also have lots of living I want to do. Lots of learning to love Atlanta. Lots of exploring with my sweetheart, lots of staying put and venturing forth. Lots of family time. Lots of memories to make. Lots of becoming. Lots of letting go.

I feel rawther pregnant with possibility. ha!

So I'm nesting now. Getting ready. And very grateful. For everything. In advance. Yep, everything. All the messy glory. Come on in, I say... let the year of possibility begin.

let us love one another

It's not possible to tell you all I am thankful for this year. I'm choked up just thinking about it. It has been an amazing year full of ups... and downs.

Thank goodness for ALL of it. As Uncle Edisto says, "Open your arms to life! Let it strut into your heart in all its messy glory!" Yessir. Wise man.

I have learned so much about the messy glory this year. And so, as I prepare for tomorrow's feast -- I am about to start all the cooking prep -- I want to say thank you. I am grateful to the crazymakers and the peacemakers. Grateful to the hapless, the hopeless, the helpless, and the helpers. Grateful to be alive in this time and place. Grateful to be able to do good work in the world. Grateful to those who labor beside me.

I want to be ready for tomorrow's feast, which I'm dedicating to those who will not have a feast but want one; those who will not be surrounded by family and friends but want to be. Those who are fallible. Those who are human. Those who love even when they are not loved back. I want to be ready to honor them.

So I spent some of yesterday bringing the outside in, which I always do when I know those I love will come celebrate with me.

 Into the yard with my clippers. Into Irene with my bounty.

Then I washed the dishes. Hannah and I found these beautiful old dishes at Kudzu last week. They called to me, whispered, cajoled, fairly begged to be taken home, so I adopted them, brought them to my kitchen, and started their new life by giving them a good bath.

Then I set the table.

And organized what I brought in from outside.

I moved the furniture in my office, and created a dining room.

 And I created a gratitude collage on one wall. I'm almost done adding the photographs of those I am grateful to this year. If you look carefully, you can see the Beatles peeking out from behind a photo of me in that top left corner. You can see my mother-in-law's wedding photo, you can see my children, my family, my heart.

2011 is almost gone. I have dreams for the future, even in these troubled times, these sometimes desperate days, these also-amazing days, and I say:

Let us not worry about who is right. Let us not care about who's ahead. Let us always see the best in one another. Let us feed and care for and nurture one another and see who we really are. Let us tend to one another's wounds and adopt one another and bathe one another in the light of our understanding. Let us understand what brotherhood means. And let us love one another. Always.

around atlanta: smack into the city

Downtown and South Downtown (SoDo), into Grant Park.  It was a Sunday afternoon and I had questions. Where are all the people who live here, dine here, shop here, raise their families here?

They aren't here. They have moved to Midtown and other neighborhoods. People may work in downtown Atlanta, but they surely don't live here anymore (for the most part), although there is a large homeless population. We got out and walked, and we drove through, in late afternoon, and watched men and women making ready their beds for the night with pieces of cardboard, with shopping carts, a blanket perhaps, under ramps and in parking lots, on steps.

We also got caught up in the traffic leaving the Georgia Dome after a Falcons game. The population swelled for a moment, but all cars were heading out of the city.

This article, in Creative Loafing, addressed some of my questions.  It's titled "South Downtown Must be Fixed for Atlanta to Thrive" followed by this subhead: "The area south of Five Points was once bustling. What the hell happened?" It's enlightening and opinionated. The comments are... interesting.

What a contrast from our last Sunday drive! I want some books about Atlanta's history. Preferably with lots of photos. Anybody know where I should start?

I'm in D.C. today, working with 4th graders at The Potomac School. We're talking about how to create unforgettable characters. These kids are teaching me a lot. They're fabulous. I'm on my lunch break. Back to it. I'll be home -- home to my new home town -- on Wednesday night.