Bits and pieces.

I wish I could write something as lovely as what Brian said yesterday, but it’s Monday morning and I’m feeling slightly queasy (which I suspect is a byproduct of the multivitamin I’ve been taking) so it’s almost impossible for me to conjure anything even slightly romantic at the moment. Suffice to say that Brian and I made it to a year as of yesterday, and I’m pretty certain we will make it to many more. That feels really damned good to say outloud. Yes, people, he *is* the one.

That said, I had a weekend packed full of folks – not only the family events that Brian wrote about (my family, his family, a wedding – all in two days) – but I heard from a friend who has moved back to town, saw two good friends who were working at Word on the Street yesterday, and found myself in a long phone conversation last night with another old friend who is considering a career in government. Besides which, I interacted with a lot of random people at WOTS yesterday since it’s a crowd of book people, and I like book people. Yesterday felt very good to me for many reasons; fabulous September day, happy people, anniversary, books. Too bad Monday had to come along, really.

I struggled this morning to wake up early enough to write, but as Brian was perched on the edge of the bed with a cup of coffee at quarter after six, I felt that I had some responsibility to him at least. I mean, if he is willing to get up and support me like that, I need to hold up my end of the bargain and actually write. It’s not like I even have to come up with something cogent in that time. And since I was late rising today, I just allowed myself 30 minutes of free writing which gave me 1200 words that I didn’t have yesterday. Good right? Eventually these bits and pieces will add up to something I’m sure – but for now I think it’s just important to practice the ritual of discipline. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself at six am.

I feel woozy at the moment, frustrated by my inability to fully wake up, and I’m pretty sure that more coffee will only make my stomach worse. How strange, this. I’m don’t believe it’s an actual “illness” but more something to do with restless sleep, and perhaps the fact I was dreaming about customs agents when I woke up this morning.

I have a week of people and events before heading to Ottawa on Friday for the first round of collective bargaining since last May. But I am feeling well-equipped – schedule organized with Brian, time for packing set aside, and a friend to housesit while I’m gone. It works, this life, if I time-manage effectively – and I feel like I am just figuring that out now. The addition of a partner and a child to my life has made it somewhat of a neccessity – to find time for all my responsibilities and loves, including my own work and process.

Fuzzy head aside, I am actually feeling pretty “on” these days in terms of making what I need happen – and I’m feeling really supported in doing so by my partner and my friends. I am trying my damndest to let my privileged life spill over and reciprocate that support back out in full measure. It’s not always that I get times of such riches as this in my life and I’m determined to make the most of what it is I have managed to gather in my arms.