Today is Celebrate Your Unique Talent Day. The closest thing I can think of is my ability to put my entire fist in my mouth, which I’ve demonstrated at a family reunion or two. There must be other unique talents lurking somewhere; maybe the ability to crank out a blog post every day for nearly a year even when sitting back down at my computer in the evening is the last thing I want to do, especially when I have nothing profound to say. But then again, this particular blog experiment wasn’t meant to be profound. Its purpose is to keep me writing every day because, quite frankly, after pushing out my fourth book earlier this year, it’s been difficult to get motivated again. Maybe it’s been the steady stream of workers in and out and around my house since April; the constant disruption and project management. Then I read stories about how mothers of multiple children sit down at 11 PM to write what will become a multi-million-dollar best seller after they’ve taken care of the kids, helped with homework, cooked meals, did laundry, cleaned the house, managed the spouse, and did whatever umpteen gazillion things we women do. Or they’re desperately poor and jot notes on café napkins to outline a story idea about a wizard boy. I don’t know how these people do it. Maybe if I had had kids I would have been more motivated.

Baked soda bread this morning, watched the amazing tiler begin to design my bathroom floor, and signed off work early to go for a walk with Hubby when he returned from work. The beaver that had started making a meal out of a creekside tree last winter has never returned; the gnaw marks now darkening with the weather. Another episode of Yellowstone tonight (why are we still watching this incredibly violent show whose only redeeming value is the familiar scenery of my old Montana?), plus an hour on a difficult puzzle. Four days off and the home stretch to 2022.

This week’s gratitude: covid booster and a massage.