Stacy Horn

My friend Ellen has a great blog called Excellent Walker. She did this thing that I like and want to use. At the end of her most recent entry, she posted where she walked that day and the type was smaller and in italics, like an aside.

I thought from time to time I would include entries from this journal I keep, and talked about here, where I list three things I did that day, and three things that made me happy (try not to be ill at the thought of it — it’s not as bad as it sounds).

Like so:

7/5
Good work gearing up for this chapter.
Dropped off shoes to be returned.
Emailed Jackie about the paperback cover for my blog.

Rice pudding, finding good quotes for book, turning off AC because it’s not so FREAKING hot.

Not, bad, right? Okay, not such an exciting day, but they can’t all be spent performing at Summerstage in Central Park! This is the writer’s life. When all the interviews and research is done you’re home, or wherever you write, day after day after day … writing.

While waiting for the fireworks to begin, I took a shot of the Empire State Building. It looks a lot further away in this photograph then it does in reality. Pretty though, huh? Sometimes I feel like the luckiest person in the world.

It used to be my roof would be filled with people on the 4th of July, along with every other roof. This year, there were three people on my roof, and only one other roof had people (they had a bagpipes player, though, so they ruled, although bagpipes are so bittersweet). But that’s it. What happened to everyone? Every year there are fewer and fewer people. Where are the drunken young people??

I don’t really have a great camera, so my fireworks shots were not great. I live all the way on the west side, on the Hudson, and the fireworks are launched from the East River.

I love Flickr!

There’s a ton of photos of us at Summerstage, but of course I’m uploading a couple with ME in the picture! In this one you can see my teeny tiny head, right to the right of the trombone player’s hip. Man those guys were fun. I say again, I love Balkan Beat Box.

Here I am, leaning back, hovering in the shade, waiting to go on. That’s me in the sunglasses. I’m wearing my newly chosen red sneakers!

My ex-husband very nicely recommended some books for me, among them a horror novel by Dean Koontz called Odd Thomas. I love that it begins with a small, love poem by Koontz:

Hope requires the contender
Who sees no virture in surrender.
From the cradle to the bier,
The heart must persevere.

– Find another way of making a living in case everything you’re doing now goes to hell. Okay, not off to a positive start. But I have ZERO ideas. You know, maybe this is the kind of thing that you get to when you get to. Can’t be planned.
– Fall in love.
– Pick a place to travel to and explore. Mexico? (I don’t fly, so it has to be kinda close.)
– Make ten new friends (one for each year).

Too many big things. I need some things that are easier to accomplish.

– Take a hip hop dance class.
– Visit a museum in NYC that you’ve never been to.
– Take a pottery class. (I’m dying to recapture that joy of getting your thing back and it’s all colorful and shiny.)
– Sing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony.
– Find a regular volunteer gig that you enjoy. Maybe go back to Literacy Partners?
– Not think about turning 60. (OHGOD.)
– Get a dog.
– Repaint apartment.
– Walk the perimeter of Manhattan.
– Pick a neighborhood each year and explore. Start with financial district.

I’m trying to think of things so that when I get to 60 I’m not filled with regret. But nothing is jumping out at me, except for the “make ten new friends” thing. I like that one. I have a decent number of friends, and it feels great, so I’m thinking more would feel even better. Especially when I’m older.