I spent last night wrestling my printer into submission. Though it took me hours, I was (finally) able to print out copies of my manuscripts to bring to school on Sunday. Ten copies of a twenty-five page manuscript for my Large Critique Group, and five copies of a different 25 page manuscript for my Small Critique Group.
Today, I’ll start packing. I’ve also got to figure out things for my girls, who start back at school on Monday. I’m much more nervous about leaving the kids this time around than when I went to Hambidge. Because when I went to Hambidge in July, the kids were out of school. They basically only needed to be fed. This time around, there will be homework, swimming lessons, play practice, etc. We (barely) manage the schedules when two adults are here. For one person, it will be a little overwhelming.
* * * * * * *
I’ve had bookstores on my mind lately.
Yesterday, my entire family spent four hours in the local Barnes & Noble. Four hours, with very little talking– burying ourselves in the stacks and exploring different kinds of books.
I love bookstores. I divide my time between local independent stores as well as the B & N. There’s something about being in a bookstore that is like eating a warm, hot bowl of soup on a chilly day or sipping a piping hot mug of tea with lemon and honey by a fireplace. It’s a special, intimate kind of nurturing. It’s healing between the lines.
I’m reading a lovely memoir right now, The Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap by Wendy Welsh. It’s a story about how Welsh and her husband settled into a tiny town in Appalachia and opened up a used bookstore on the first floor of their very old home. There’s some really gorgeous, vivid writing. I highly recommend it.
One of these days, I think I’ll have to go visit.