I’ll be the first to admit that I’m way too hard on myself. It’s aggravating because when I’m writing, no matter HOW much I get done at a time, I always feel like it could have been more. If I write twenty pages in the morning, then I feel guilty for not writing in the evenings. There’s no middle ground for me. I’m either not producing at all or I’m cramming as much writing into every second of the day. (There’s that whole manic thing going for me)

I don’t ever stop the smell the roses. When I accomplish one thing, I’m too busy looking forward to the next thing to ever stop and take it all in and celebrate, even the small things. One of my promises to myself was that this year I wasn’t going to do that. I’m going to acknowledge each success, no matter how minute, because I think it’s important to nurture the accomplishments in an artist.

So, this morning I got up to take the kids to school. When I returned home, my usual routine is to open the laptop and get to work. Instead, I took a celebratory nap :lol2: I went to bed, didn’t check email, I’m already on no mail for EVERYTHING (I have to tell you, this ignorance is bliss thing is REALLY working out well) didn’t crack open a file to work, I just curled up with my cat and we took a long snooze.

Then hubby came home to pick me up for lunch. This evening, we’re heading out to enjoy our spectacular weather and play some baseball with the kids. I won’t worry about work until tomorrow or so :guitar: