My new book “Midlife Solo” is now available.

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miles to go before I …

Still hanging onto my hat in the hurricane here, if you’ll forgive the alliteration: today, two painters and three carpenters getting in each other’s way on the second floor, and me trying to direct traffic. There’s a huge scaffold up there now so Joe can paint the high ceilings. Painting takes a long time, and I want it to be over. I want it all to be over, to unpack my life and enjoy my new space, but not yet. “Miles to go before I sleep — in my own bedroom,” as Mr. Frost might have said had he ever lived through a renovation.

Somehow in the midst of all this, yesterday, I contacted and then emailed the manuscript to yet another editor. The one I sent it to at the end of December, whom I’d met socially and who responded with warmth to my query about seeing the manuscript, has not responded, even to a request simply to let me know she received it. So after two months I started again, and this time, the editor replied immediately and with great politeness. I know this is almost certainly leading to a no, but having the door opened politely, even if my offering gets handed back to me and the door slammed shut again, means a lot.

And then across town, to have dinner with Anna and family. Before I left, Kevin was up high installing a window.

Time with Ben the gymnast, the mountaineer, climbing and jumping and whacking. I’m thrilled to say I learned how to play Beyblades, the spinning fad, though more at Ben’s level than Eli’s. At one point, they both appeared wielding their nerf guns, Eli with bullets strapped across his chest like a Sandinista, to protect us from bad guys. And then we collapsed in a heap on the bed to read a book. A heap of grandsons – there’s nowhere I’d rather be. And had better enjoy it now, because they’re growing up fast, and neither is a cuddler in any case. At least for me. Lots of cuddling for Mama.

When I got home, the house was empty of workmen, and this was in place:

So much light on the second floor.

At the Y today, I was the last in line. This winter has been something of an ordeal for both body and soul, and I am slower than ever in all ways.

 My office.

My bedroom. Sweet dreams!



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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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