With a little luck in my corner, it seems the countdown has begun, hoping for a November book release, just in time for my birthday. Let’s not talk about age. Nothing to see here, move along.
Pretty nice birthday present though, the realization of a long-standing dream of publishing a book. These somewhat surreal days of guarded anticipation make me mindful of how I arrived at this precipice, and especially who helped me get here.
I’m saving my editor for one of the last posts. I sigh hard and laugh out loud thinking of our efforts together. What a mix of emotion and personalities, which I will write about in the weeks to come. His story may take a few posts. But in the end, I’m so grateful for his contribution and hopeful we have forged a friendship going forward.
This post, though, has to do with my sweet man, Rick… Rickie to many. He can pull off pretty much any iteration of his name, Richard, Rickie, Rick, and even Dick to a few. He’s human after all. But for most that know him, he’s either Rick or Rickie. He hasn’t aged enough to outgrow Rickie, which I love about him.
He maintains a positive attitude about life, which he shares with me daily. He so rarely succumbs to negativity, and those few times he does, he takes it out in the garden digging holes in our very rocky soil. Every morning as we look at our phones and I begin to worry about the world, he reminds me that there is something to be grateful for, or at the very least to laugh about.
While he will disagree, I never would have realized this dream without him. For many years he listened to me fantasize about writing a book… creating a blog… yadayadayada. His belief in me kept me confident, and also engaged, moving from one idea to another, but not losing faith when one by one they dropped by the wayside.
Finally, a few years ago, an idea struck a chord as a subject which I finally felt confident blogging about. And growing from those tiny seeds, here we are, publishing my first book.
When we first moved to the foothills six years ago, Rick surprised me a few months in by setting up a folding table in our bedroom bay windows. It was a plastic Home Depot table, but he covered it with a pretty table cloth and even went so far as to adorn it with family photos. He in no uncertain terms was inviting me to put my roots down as a writer, once and for all.
Thankfully, I accepted his invitation. And a year or so later he replaced that desk with a beautiful dark wood writing table. Once this beloved desk arrived, I created a desktop that spoke to my heart. For the most part, it comprises pictures, a fews pigs and a candle. Not sure what my connection to pigs is, but I certainly have one.
Those pigs and pictures, along with my candles, have kept me company every time I sit down to write. I light my candle, smile at my parents, sometimes talk to them, and sail on the wings of Rick and my kids as I write to my heart’s content.
Being a big fan of the movie It’s a Wonderful Life, I often contemplate the influence one person’s life can have on others. I like to believe in the end, like George, we all realize our triumphs. But just to be on the safe side, I dedicate this post to Rick to be sure he understands his tremendous influence on my life and this accomplishment.
Love you baby.