Spring Forward

Now that I have my Skirt! blog, I find my writing brain operating differently. When ideas bubble into my consciousness lately, they shape themselves with that audience in mind. So I think Debfeb Diaries may evolve into a more personal journal-type blog, but I will never be one of those “Today I ate French toast” bloggers. It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m writing, I’m happy, audience or not.

The Universe sure is responding right now, just a few days before my birthday. The Globe Magazine essay, renamed “A Mattress Built for Two,” appears tomorrow. It popped up online prematurely earlier in the week because of some weird web glitch, then disappeared, but I got a sneak preview and I’m ecstatic.

Then I have two job interviews, on Monday and Thursday, for good, interesting jobs with benefits. On Wednesday, I have my Skirt! photo shoot for the April “24/7” feature. Me? A photo shoot. Very strange. I am sweating the wardrobe part and the makeup part and whether to spring for a manicure. It's not in my budget, but I think I will.

I’m getting my stuff out there at readings too. On Friday the 13th, I read an essay called “Dear Diary: Where Is Luv?” at the Center for New Words open-mic night in Cambridge. Two writing group friends read too—quite the love fest for those who gathered. There’s nothing better than writers supporting writers. This past Thursday, I read the same essay at another open-mic night at Back Pages Books in Waltham. Besides a couple of group buddies (who rocked), other readers were quite the eclectic bunch, ranging from an excruciatingly well-meaning über-geek and his excruciating “poetry” to a very cute, soulful young man’s soulful love songs. Definitely crush-worthy. Too bad he was old enough to be my son, if not my grandson.

So much activity, so much excitement. I’m more energized than I’ve been in months—it seems everyone is. The sun is stronger, the days are longer, the snow is melting, the air is crisper. Spring is springing. It feels so good.

And on Friday I enter a new demographic group: 55+. How did that happen? Can it be me? I feel like my life is just starting.

Better late than never.