Yesterday's writing group was small and intimate, and we spent three hours doing close readings of each other's work. It's an intense undertaking, but the results can be spectacular: sharing suggestions line by line, then going back to the drawing board and writing a second draft. Afterwards, I felt exhausted but happy and met Pam at Earl's for chicken fried steak.
Even so, I woke up feeling sort of blue this foggy morning, so decided to drive over to VW to get Tiguan's new tag. On the way, one of the decade-long members of the Saturday Topo Chicas Group, a dear friend, Victoria, called to talk about yesterday's writing. She has a voice that's pure sunshine, and we talked as I drove. When we moved to other subjects besides writing, I felt the tears coming, the ones I'd been holding back long enough to get everything on my list done for the holidays. Crying is a good thing if you have a friend who doesn't mind!
When I drove into my driveway, there were two packages on the porch. One was a round mosaic mirror in reds and purples I'd bought in New York at a Fall Festival, and Mike had crated it so that it arrived without a crack. The other was a box of books and souvenirs I'd left there--including a book by a Maine memoirist, a recipe book of Southern dishes Carlene had bought for me in Athens, a 2017 calendar from Linda as part of my birthday in Cape Cod. Vermont, Cape Cod, and Virginia postcards, bumper stickers, and other souvenirs are now scattered on my kitchen table, memories of my 68th birthday trip to New England.
As I was unwrapping memories and paper and glass, my sweet friend Gerlinde delivered just what I needed--a hot bowl of the most delicious homemade clam chowder. What perfect timing! (One of my postcards from Maine featured a clam chowder recipe, but now I don't have to do a thing but heat it up and enjoy it for my Texas Sunday dinner--which I just did and am doing with relish!)
I spent the afternoon in bed perusing my books and watching a movie, then Jan came over to deliver Christmas cookies made by Kate--who broke her foot falling on a slick spot on the floor last week.
Jan told me that this morning in her church, the music director did a program about black gospel music. "Why do people of all cultures love black gospel music?" he asked. "Because everyone is enslaved to something."
Later, just now, in the middle of enjoying the best clam chowder ever, Jan reappeared, this time with a plate of Egg Fu Yung and rice, which goes remarkably well with clams.
What great prosperity it is to have amazing friends on a day like today, on any day!
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