WIP accountability and other amusing conversations Part One

One example of aging; I have to stitch a dark thread on a dark square during the daytime because at night even with extra lighting, it's still not bright enough for me to see what I'm doing.

Recently I had a chat with Future Me about this semi-retired business. She rolled her eyes, smirked, then spoke. "Did you really think you'd remain this ambitious ALL THE REST OF YOUR DAYS?"

I cleared my throat, then shrugged my shoulders. "Well no, but...."

"But you assumed you would. You know what happens when you assume things, right?"

I smirked back. "Yeah, I know."

She grunted, then patted my shoulder. "It's okay, you know, to SLOW DOWN. You're not beholden to anyone to produce anything at this date or on that deadline."

"No one but me, myself, and I," I said under my breath.

Again she grunted. "Look, I don't care how long it takes you to edit a novel or make a quilt or get your backside outside to deal with the garden. And to be perfectly honest, Past Me's too wrapped up in her thing to gripe. I mean, if you're not quite fifty-eight and just hitting this wall, well...."

We both glanced backwards at Past Me, who was tying that initial quilt. She's still in her forties, feeling pretty damn good about herself, I considered.

"She's still in her forties and feeling pretty damn good about herself," Future Me said flatly.

Do you look at me and think the same, I wondered.

"You're fine, you know," Future Me then said softly.

"Am I?"

"Hell yes! You're revising four different books and working on six different paper piecing things and you repotted all those cosmos and marigolds yesterday and...."

She rattled off a few other achievements, but I'd tuned out, considering how I made a written list of the EPP quilts on a WIP Toolkit from Jodi Godfrey that I downloaded recently. My husband printed out the relevant pages, which I filled out yesterday after breakfast, remarking to him today I need another sheet to keep all my novels straight! I have yet to do that, but soon, because I felt so much better after writing down the quilt projects, and I bet I'll feel just as relieved with the novels sorted.

Future Me cleared her throat. "Oh, uh, what?" I replied nervously.

She smiled. "You're thinking about listing all your books on the toolkit paper, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I said sheepishly.

"I remember that time. You'd just gotten back from being with the grandgirls. And, um...." She paused, then giggled. "Lots of people in their forties with kids younger than the grandgirls. Which in the big picture isn't so bad because they'll be a LOT older than you are now when they become grandparents, but...."

"Yeah, that's it."

Future Me cleared her throat. Rare are the moments when I think she'll impart some priceless advice or rarer still, a glimpse into my life where she's at, not that I know exactly how far in the future she's residing but....

"Do you remember," she began, "when you turned thirty-two and couldn't just sleep off a big party or event? Or when you were forty-two and realized your temples were starting to look a little...."

"Old," I smiled.

She nodded. "And now you're approaching fifty-eight." She paused, then rolled her eyes. "Good lord, that's, well...."

"Not for sissies," I smirked.

"Nope, it's sure as hell not. But it's doable without major mid-life crisis calls going out." She folded her arms over her chest, then nodded. "It's not nearly like when you turned twenty-nine."

I nodded too, recalling how crazy I felt back then. Then I stared at her. "That was half my life ago."

"Yup. You got through that to reach thirty. Think about all you've done since then."

I paused. Then I smiled. "Okay, good to know."

"Yes," she grinned wickedly. "Yes it is."