fall of gluttony

It’s that time of year again. The time that is either my favorite or my least favorite time of the year. The weather beginning to grow colder, where you can almost wear a jacket but really don’t need one. The leaves are just hinting at morphing hues. The streets wet with early morning mist. The pumpkin chai or pumpkin white chocolate mocha warm in my hands as I drive, listening to my latest vampire romance (JR Ward, at the moment). Wrapped in cozy warmth. The days are still long enough to keep me sane (relatively), while hinting that I’ll soon be decorating for Christmas. When things are rough, this time of year is the hardest, knowing the long dark evenings and nights ahead alone, facing a forced Merry Christmas, the glaring of all that I’ve lost in my life nearly impossible to ignore. What a change this season in when surrounded by love, when happy and content, when living a gift. I’m so very thankful.
Today, in addition to being wonderful outside, is a key day in the drama of the evil house stealing lady in Estes. Eviction court is today. If it goes well, the short sale should go through. If not, my parents have no more money to fight her and will have to declare bankruptcy. I’ve never battled hatred as much as I feel for this woman. After years of sucker punches my family has endured over and over and over, fought and fought and fought. For this evil bitch to come in and rape away the rest of our dignity and resources. I never knew I could feel this way toward another supposed human being. We will see what the day holds. I need to stop this conversation, show some restraint, though I would at least love to use words to destroy her. In all my lack of faith, ‘Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord’ continues to ring in my head.
Throughout the continual rejection letters of agents, I have decided to move forward in a more proactive, less cost-effective, manner. I am in talks with the Boulder Book Company (an amazing book store on Pearl Street in Boulder) to do an Author signing and have them display my books for three weeks. It’s expensive and risky, and kinda fun. It could blow up in my face and cost a lot of money for nothing, but you never know. Someone might be there. An agent, the wife of an agent, the friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of an agent/publisher. Who knows? I’ve got to keep trying.
Selfish, I know. To have found love and still reach for my other biggest dream? I guess I want it all. Call me glutton.