I took up golf a while back, although it’s been forever since I played. I remember once after an 18 hole round, I stopped by my mom’s to pick up the kids. She asked if I was tired, and I said, “Yes, but it’s a good kind of tired.” Her expression turned wistful and she smiled and said, “That’s what your dad used to say after he finished a round of golf.” He’d passed away a few years before, and I regretted that I hadn’t taken up golf while he was still alive, but I felt a special connection to him in that moment. Even though we’d never played together, we’d ‘sort of’ shared the golfing experience. He ‘got it’ as only someone who’d walked in our shoes (golf shoes in this case) could.
I attended a writer’s retreat this weekend. It was in Oklahoma City, so no traveling involved, but some members of my OKRWA writer’s group gathered for workshops, brainstorming, general writer talk, and lots of laughter and fun. (And a little bit of wine. And shots. Although I won’t say what kind of shots. Or who drank them. I’ll let HER tell you about that.)
I shouldn’t be exhausted, since it was a lot of sitting around, I am, because I didn’t sleep in my own bed, I’ve been hauling stuff around, and I visited my mom in the nursing home, visited my friend and her daughters, and went to the grocery store before finally arriving back at my house.
I’m also experiencing a bit of the warm fuzzies, because there’s nothing like hanging out with others who share a passion for writing. People who understand all the little idiosyncrasies and twisted thoughts that come along with it. (Well, I might have pushed the boundaries of ‘acceptable’ twistedness, especially when I told a few anecdotes about my three macabre-minded children. But I don’t think I scared anyone too badly.)
I’m so glad I attended the retreat, and I wish more of our group could have made it. We had a wonderful time. I feel inspired, rejuvenated, and ready to tackle my next story. And yes, I’m tired. But it’s a good kind of tired. And I’ll take that kind of tired every time.