Black dog come around

      It's been five days since I posted. I apologize about that. I'll explain as much as I can in a moment. But none of you have commented about me not posting so you're probably fine. Are you? Or are you like me: so overwhelmed with life that it's hard enough to function, much less thinking about posting?
      It's not the holidays. People always like to think the holidays are depressing. I like Christmas, okay? And I'm totally cool with New Years. Of course, I am behind in my projects. The December family newsletter will be mailed tomorrow ... if I'm lucky and productive tonight, and the Christmas cards with their Tales insert will be mailed Thursday. So that's a bit later than usual. But that's okay. People should still get them before Christmas, which is the point. And yes, I still have some Christmas shopping to do. And some Christmas mailing. But it mostly seems manageable at this point, and I will be off work Thursday afternoon when I can finish up some nagging details.
      Murder by the Acre, however, is on hold until after Christmas. I can't seem to muster the concentration necessary -- or the enthusiasm to be honest -- that it requires. That's okay. It will wait, and a bit of time away will only help me approach it with vigor when I return to it. I've already thought of and jotted down notes for a couple of scenes that I think are going to greatly improve the flow of the story as well as give Bernard a vital clue about what is really going on and who's killing who and why. So that's okay.
      If all of this is true -- and it is -- then why has the black dog come around? That's what Winston Churchill called depression: the black dog. I've always thought it was a particularly apt description.
      Probably the lack of sunlight. I miss the sun and warmth. I definitely do not like winter. It drags on me. Weighs me down. I have one of those natural light lamps, an attempt to end or at least moderate this Seasonal Affective Disorder. I can't tell that it has helped much if at all.
      Or maybe bottled anger. I've had many, many, many of my friends who have supported Murder by Dewey Decimal. They have bought the book, attended my book signings, and generally shared my joy in this accomplishment. I appreciate them more than I can so. But then there are other "friends" who have given lip service to being my friend for years, but who didn't buy the book, don't ask about it, who basically refuse to give it any attention. It has dismayed me. And regrettably, there are family members who fall into this category, too. Look, I know it's not War & Peace. I know it's not Harry Potter. But it's my book, a part of me. It's my baby, misshapen as it might be. If a so-called friend can't be happy for me, can't support me and my dreams, then why am I bothering with them? They're not my friends. I don't what they are, but I don't want to waste any more time on them.
      It could be grief. My Uncle Everett's passing left a hole in my family. My aunt, who is doing amazingly well all things considered, struggles daily with his loss and will for some time to come. We have talked several times since and will continue to do so. Sometimes it's hard to listen to her grieve, but she needs someone to listen, and that is something I can do and am proud to do so.
      Or how about health worries? My blood sugar is not doing like it should. Control is proving more elusive that I had hoped. It's frustrating to eat the same things every day, to do all the right things that the experts suggest, and my blood sugar still remains high. Or drops so low that I'm sick. And now I apparently have a stress fracture on my left foot. No treadmill for a while. I have to figure out an alternative form of exercise that I can do. And afford. We have gyms in town with plenty of equipment, but currently I can't afford their fees. Or maybe I can't afford not to.
      And then there are financial worries. Money remains tight. But I'm on pace to pay off another credit card this month. Then in September or October of 2009, I'll pay off another one. Then in June or July of 2010, I'll pay off my second mortgage. And finally in 2011, the first mortgage. So, assuming nothing changes and I continue to receive a paycheck and my health doesn't worsen and so on, I'll be out of debt in 2011. I'll be broke, but I won't be paying outrageous interest to anyone. So there's progress, but it's wearying, this constant penny pinching, this never-ending mindfulness.
      Let's not forget the worries for the world. We humans are incredibly short-sighted, and it doesn't seem to getting better. We wage war, despoil the environment, abuse the weak, worship the rich, cheapen the spiritual, teach prejudice, abhor honesty, and generally behave as if ... sigh. Enough of that.
      Or maybe I'm just a whiny butt who needs more rest. I hope things are going well for you. We'll resume our Christmas countdown tomorrow. Night!