The Song Sings Itself

Mistakes are almost always of a sacred nature. Never try to correct them. On the contrary:
rationalize them, understand them thoroughly. After that,
it will be possible for you to sublimate them.

Yesterday was the anniversary of Salvador Dali’s birthday. I meant to post this entry last night, but I ran out of time. Conclave is finished and the last few contributors’ journals will be shipped off this afternoon, but I still feel like I have so many little loose ends to tie up before I can plunge headfirst into the next few projects.

Mark was in Germany last week, and during that time my son had a nasty virus. It was a long week and a bit lonely.

I usually treasure my time alone; I crave it most times. However days spent with a sick, cranky almost-five-year-old and high-energy almost-three-year-old isn’t quite alone time, and I do appreciate some adult interaction during the day–especially in times of stress and lack of sleep, especially over my first cup of coffee. That’s one of the rituals I miss most about working outside the home, in Academia and Corporate America; the morning coffee shared with coworkers is a much nicer way to ease into the day.

So, as much as I have not enjoyed the disruption brought on by construction in our home, last week I found myself wishing for my morning coffee with some of my favorite contractors. When they were around, I knew I could share a cup of coffee and have a quick chat with them before they started their work. I enjoyed hearing about their trades and their lives. I enjoyed starting my day with friendly natter.

On the plus side, I did write a short story last week that I envision as part of a larger collection. I won’t work on it in earnest until I finish S.C., but I have been jotting down copious notes in my Moleskine to keep the ideas fresh. It’ll be a fun project for the summer.

Speaking of summer, the kids only have three weeks until the end of the school year. I think we’ve decided to keep it simple and old-fashioned this summer. We’ll have a trip to Arizona and maybe Wisconsin, but I don’t plan to over-schedule the kids with camps and acitivities. We have this fabulous new yard, and I want us all to enjoy it, to have long summer days exploring, digging, planting, and climbing without worrying about schedules and early mornings.

When I was a kids, summers were about freedom: to play with the neighborhood kids, to read piles of books, to stay up later and sleep in, to watch cartoons I had missed during the school year. Summers were sprinkler-filled, carefree, and creative.

What are some of your most beloved childhood summer memories? I would love to hear them (you see, I’m drinking my morning coffee and pretending you’re here with me, at the kitchen table, chatting).

xxo

Published by Valya

Valya Dudycz Lupescu has been making magic with food and words for more than 20 years, incorporating folklore from her Ukrainian heritage with practices that honor the Earth. She’s a writer, content developer, instructor, and mother of three teenagers. Valya is the author of THE SILENCE OF TREES and the founding editor of CONCLAVE: A Journal of Character. Along with Stephen H. Segal, she is the co-author of FORKING GOOD: An Unofficial Cookbook for Fans of The Good Place and GEEK PARENTING: What Joffrey, Jor-El, Maleficent, and the McFlys Teach Us about Raising a Family (Quirk Books), and co-founder of the Wyrd Words storytelling laboratory. Valya earned her MFA in Writing from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and her poetry and prose have been published in anthologies and magazines that include, The Year's Best Dark Fantasy & Horror, Kenyon Review, Culture, Gargoyle Magazine, Gone Lawn, Strange Horizons, Mythic Delirium. You can find her on Twitter @valya.

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