It’s exciting to hear that one of my Instagram friends is a nanowrimo winner with her 50,274 words. It is quite a feat. I know that for a fact. I’ve tried a couple of times to write that novel in 30 days and have failed. To win you have to come up with 1,667 words a day. I have trouble coming up with 500. It’s getting easier though. Stretching, trying for more does make a difference.
Talking about excitement, I noticed how my body felt the jubilation at the news. I felt hopeful for myself – that I COULD be a nanowrimo winner, too. I wanted to sit at my keyboard and start writing then. But I was right in the midst of mixing bread dough. Those 1600 some words would have to wait – probably longer than today. I have learned that excitement doesn’t get me very far. Hard work and persistence are the tools.
I’m waiting for the dough to proof. Meanwhile I’m sipping lemon tea and tapping out my meager words. The sun is shining through the windows, warming my back. Sheba is napping on her bed in sunshine. It is still morning. I am changing my routine a bit. Maybe it’ll bring me more productivity. I’m being conscious, paying attention – to everything.
My body betrays me sometimes. I hate it that I am such a truthful person. Life could be easier if I could lie – a little bit even if just to myself. But no, I can’t. I feel so disappointed and annoyed at the inability to accept myself as I am or to change so far. Maybe if I can change my body posture, I can change the way it feels. It doesn’t hurt to investigate and try. Fake it till I make it.
When you change anything, you change everything. I changed my morning routine, now I am not running behind. I’m picking up where I left off. My poofed bread dough, covered by Saran wrap, was in the refrigerator while we went out for lunch. Our lunch was longer than we thought – 3 hours. But it is all is good. The dough is warming up to room temperature on the kitchen island. I’m trying to finish my cast off thoughts here. Sheba got her lunch. Of course, now she is whining for her walk. She can and will wait.
My body now fed, is feeling much better. Food and blood sugar does matter. My thoughts and words are flowing smoother and easier. Life does not feel as heavy or serious. A little yeast helps everything besides the dough to rise. I will savour and remember this feeling. The next time my body gets too serious and rigid, I will remember the effervescence of yeast. I will be resurrected.
The dough is now warm and pliable. I best get on with shaping it into loaves. They will need to be proofed again before baking. Meanwhile Sheba and I can go for our walk. We have time before the bread goes into the oven. She needs chilling.