I’m sitting in the sunroom at Shana’s with the air conditioning on, surrounded by the whir of the portable air conditioner and five animals – well at least the one’s inside.  Lola, the cat, is bathing herself as she lays on top of the printer. The new puppy, Manzi, is systematically taking every toy out of the basket and chewing on one for a few minutes before going back to get another. Frankie lays at the far end of the room, with her usually sulking countenance. I’ve locked her from the garage to keep the heat out and the cool air in. Then there are two crone-like small dogs, Apple and Sophie, who belong to friends. Like my daughter and the boys, these friends and their boys are in Yosemite for a week of hiking in and what they’ve described as a mostly deserted park, except for the few bears they’ve encountered. There are perks to remote learning, and my family and friends are embracing these opportunities while they can.

I just woke from a two-hour nap, one way to tolerate the record-breaking heat of this late September day. I’ve been crazy tired this week, mainly because my mind is whirling with ideas and tasks. I’ve been on Whole 30 for most of the last four weeks, so I’m not struggling with the effects of eating food that triggers uncomfortable symptoms. I say most because three weeks in, I drank wine on a girls’ night. This gathering I desperately needed, after what seems like non-stop teaching while amping up my business. My vision is expanding, and I know at some point, teaching will trickle away when classes go back to being held inside the classroom. The commute for one of the gigs would be impossible. 

Ladies Night In

The gathering was a nice respite, one where the kids and the men were off, and the mamas and grandmas got to be just women. By the resounding exclamations of fun and meaning – we watched the Ruth Bader Ginsberg documentary – we all needed a gathering that felt somewhat normal. There were eight of us. We sat around early in the evening, sipping wine and sharing stories. Later, we devoured sushi, and when it was dark and the movie screen alit with the film, we noshed on popcorn. Food tastes especially good in celebration. 

We shared stories of children, remote schooling, and tidbits about ourselves. While I knew most everyone there  – we run in the Cookies and Wine COVID circles – there was one woman who was new to me. She mentioned being raised in India which prompted my response – how cool. She then shared she was raised in a cult that preyed on young children for sexual pleasure. How the hell do you back out of that one! She rolled with it with grace, like she shared something novel about her new baby. I fidgeted in my seat.

The Big Reveal

At one point, I spoke of my big transformation, sparked by a little liquid courage. I’m about to embrace my silver foxiness, tired of decades of running to the salon for color or coloring my own  (thanks to COVID), and having it look like my color is out of the box. It’s taken a year of pondering, and I’m ready. I’m going shorter at the same time. While my hair often gets compliments over its thick lusciousness, the truth is, as my daughter-in-law, Tiffany, said, I “deal with it.” Most of the time, I have it back except when I’m out or on Zoom. 

The response I received from these women was surprisingly supportive. Up until that point, only my daughter and Anja, my new hairdresser, knew of the plan – one Shana had been encouraging for years. I looked around the table, and I saw nods and smiles. Tiffany said, “You’ll rock it.” I’m so ready, I wish my appointment was now, not three weeks from now.

I’m ready for other things to happen as well.  I’m ready to have more time in my day to exercise, go for strolls on the beach, either with friends and family–or by myself. I’m ready to start my next novel which is tugging at my consciousness. I’m ready to plan the expansion of my business which is already underway.

Saying Yes to Something Bigger

The truth is I said “yes,” to something that feels big, the Universe is responding with new people coming into my life either as clients or people to fill different roles in my business.  My novel, The Whispered Teachings of Grandmother Trout is in production, and I’m building the launch plan.   I’ve hired an intellectual property rights lawyer to trademark A Writable Life (more on what’s in store there later), and I have new clients coming on board that I’m super thrilled to accompany on their journey.

I’m also ready for my grandchildren to stop asking, “Are you working?” – when I’ve traveled with them to places and lock myself in a corner with my computer grading papers, instead of hanging in the pool or taking a walk. Or when it’s Friday night or Sunday morning, and they want to watch a movie or play a game, and I have to say, “I’ve got papers to grade.”

It’s not that I’ll stop teaching and I certainly don’t see me not working for many, many years. I’m excited about where I see my business going. I love creating and collaborating – and serving. I expect that there will be more of a flow when I get over this “hump week.” While I will still teach at one university or another–because I like teaching – I’m feeling it’s time to let some of my classes go and keeping those that spark my creativity and aligns with my role as an author, and writing/publishing consultant. 

And these thoughts began, all because, after my nap, I looked on my coffee table and reached for Jeff Walker’s Launch. And prompted by a line in the book, I reached for my computer to join the member site for those of us reading his book. 

Stay tuned for my thoughts on Launch Week. It’s time for more reading–and pondering a launch.