To some extent, I think Monday dread accounts for a lot of the moodiness of this blog, which I tend to produce on Sundays. The other blogs (the chic blog and the reviews blog) have a distinctly lighter tone. But those I tend to produce near week's end, when the looming weekend fills me (and most people, it seems) with a sense of relief.
Anyway. Nathan and I actually had a lovely weekend. We didn't do anything particularly special, but somehow, the weekend turned into a wonderful, relaxing thing and I forgot to dread Monday.
On Friday night, we headed out to a wine and cheese party hosted by my friend Emily, which was nice because Emily has a million friends and a vast network of changing acquaintances, very few of whom I know and fewer still who know each other, so her get-togethers force me to exercise a social muscle that might otherwise atrophy. And that's a good thing. (I'm a natural hermit, you see.) I'm always nervous about parties before they happen, but then I go and end up feeling sort of self-congratulatory and pleased with myself about the whole thing. Like I do when I take my vitamins or go to the gym.
It was a very literary weekend, all things considered. I guess life gets that way when you're surrounded by writers. Nate's mom recently finished the manuscript of her latest book, and I read that last weekend. It left me crying for a good half-an-hour, so I'd say it's pretty good. And Nate, after a couple of years of uncertainty, the loss of one publisher and the finding of a new one, is now closing in on the publication of his own first book, so we spent a little time this weekend trying to get a half-way decent author photo for the back cover.
Here's one of the outtakes from our back steps:
Anyway. Like I said, it was a damn fine weekend. On Sunday, we had a volleyball game, a big birthday dinner for a friend, and some ridiculous five-pin bowling. And somehow, everything came together and obscured my usual dread, and Monday arrived, sunny and fine and full of possibility.
Did you have a nice weekend?