With news of my book release. Would you save the date for the upcoming Friday, the 12th of March, dear readers? The book is privately printed and due to be released on the portal that is every man’s friend, Amazon. First up is the e-book version, but I cannot hold back on a paperback, can I? There is hardly any sensory pleasure to be had when you do not have a book to hold, a cute bookmark to mark where you left off the book, or maybe dog ear pages. The paperback should be released shortly after the e-book.
If you had told me as a teenager that I would write a book someday, I would’ve said, you were hopped up on spliffs. The latter ref. connects up with our current living conditions in the apartment building, we moved into last year. The odour of marijuana hangs in thick veils around the corners of the corridors and has even started seeping into our apartment. The entire affair odious. So yes, we live in Weed Central, and nothing can be done about it except for us waiting on our own house that should be ready to move into, in a few months from now.
Are you reassured now that I have not lost my rambling ways during my long absence from the world of blogging?
What a strange time it still is though. My mind seems like it has been stretched beyond its call, to fit in the memories of last year and the beginning of this. It is all too much for the brains to handle. As for all the years preceding the last one, they seem to have faded into a Before Covid compartment.
I want Before Covid life back. More than anything, now that spring is here. Isn’t there a feeling of hope and joy in the air? The birdsong, the sun without its hat, the flawlessly blue skies, the children in the park, the starlings with their iridescent colours that have started arriving in flocks. I want to put on a flowery dress and go dance in a meadow filled with long grass and wildflowers. I have been struggling with fits of low phases — as I imagine have many of you — and bursts of happiness. But then I suppose it is okay to be low, for without it could I appreciate the highs?
In all of this, getting the book ready to be out has probably kept me sane. That and my art. Without the twain, I might as well have pulled all my hair out. Which reminds me, in an aside, about my husband yanking almost all my hair out (but with great love) of late. What happened is this. Adi wanted to oil my hair. He took out a massive Costco jar of coconut oil from the pantry, extracted fistfuls and steeped my hair in it. Then I was rewarded with a solid “massage” that by the end of the session had resulted in clumps of my hair all over the floor, in my hand, and all over Adi’s tee.
It was a revelation. It made me realise two important things in my life. One, that I have much less hair on my head today than I did before. And two, my husband is not going to be allowed anywhere near my hair in the future.
Anyway, before I send you scurrying for cover, for fear of having to read a sinfully long post, I will keep coming back with more. About the book, the entire process of privately printing books, the people one needs to make it happen, and more about my life. In particular, I have to tell you stories of a snowy owl who came visiting us in Bayonne.
Now tell me your news, dear friend. And I shall find my way to your blog to update myself with accounts of your life. I have missed you all way too much. My conversations with you have been the water to my soul.