|The moat which once protected the chateau in our tiny village. Try to picture the scene with today’s weather: rain, rain, rain.|
In the beginning, blogging was a life-saving adventure for me. You know I’m prone to exaggeration, but I was at one of those “crossroads” — and not just a four-way — when I started writing A Femme d’Un Certain Age.
I had no idea where she would take me, but I knew where I wanted to take her: I wanted to write every day and at the end of the day (sometimes days equal years, you know how it goes) more than anything in the world I wanted to write my book, the one that talks about them and us and where the crossroads intersect. My dream came true. I’m one of the lucky ones.
I was trying to figure out many things in my life back then and the discipline I imposed upon myself by writing daily in this space was and continues to be a cathartic joy.
I’m about to get to my point, as is so often the case by a circuitous route: I miss my daily dose of blogging. I’m in the home stretch on my chapters, but I mustn’t waver now. That’s where the other, and quite unexpected, aspect of the wonderful world of blogging came in: friends, exceptional, extraordinary friends. Supportive friends, friends who write posts for us, friends who encourage and cheerlead.
Maybe because it’s gray, rainy and chilly, but I’m feeling nostalgic and grateful. Thank you for reading me, following me and most of all thank you for the friendship.
On the calendar for next week:
A surprise. . .
The second in the series on what my daughter bought in France to take back to the States. Part two is beauty and maintenance. In all modesty I think I can say I had a considerable amount of influence in many of those purchases. Her ears were ringing from my “hydrate, hydrate, hydrate” mantra.
Janice of the brilliant Vivienne Files and I discussed something very special for you. The subject will be a sort of how-to, as in how French women wear their summer clothes longer than we do. You’ll see.