I cried four times yesterday--Four Times! No wonder I had a headache all day. I hate the days I'm emotional; it's embarrassing really. Especially when the next day they seem like such silly reasons to cry.

I felt the need to apologize to my friend Rachel who had to sit through me crying my heart out explaining why Jude the Obscure (one of my very favorites books) was so tragic!

I cried again because ten minutes before my writing group was to arrive, my stupid dog thought he'd go in and use the couch as a potty pad! I hate the dog--I started to shove his nose in it and beat him (I couldn't help it; I was having an emotional day) and he bit me in the hand. I had to hastily move all the food down to the family room and am now planning to buy a new couch or get rid of the damn dog.

The last time I cried last night was because I was moved to tears by an act of kindness to my daughter. I was a little worried about what Kate would think when Bianca paraded in all her homemade purses when she arrived for Writing Group. I warned her to expect it. I considered offering her some money under the table so that it wouldn't hurt Bianca's feelings if she had just been kidding about wanting one of Bianca's purses. But sometimes people amaze you and she did last night. Kate came in and asked to see Bianca's purses. Bianca turned into this shy girl, hiding behind my bag clutching onto her four remaining purses. [I must mention that when I'm offering something creative of myself, like my writing, I wish I could cower behind my mom's back because it's just safer there.] But anyway, I nudged Bianca forward to show them to Kate, which she did finally. Kate asked if she could buy all of them. And when she asked how much and Bianca said $2 each, Kate replied, "That's not enough." She gave her $20 for the four remaining purses, and Bianca skipped off happily down to bed.

After my group left, I found a new purse on the steps where Bianca must have been cowering and stitching together her last bits of scrap felt to make another purse but too afraid to offer it up. I saw it discarded there before bed and picked it up. And I cried. I don't know why, perhaps for the kindness that Kate showed my daughter or for the sweet little girl who is trying out her creativity and is hoping that someone will love what she creates--or her for creating it, which I do. Maybe I was crying for me because everytime I send in some more of my writing, I hope someone will finally love what I'm offering. That my novel will be accepted, that I will feel it was worth the three years I put into it.

With morning, though, brings clarity. And while I still think my daughter is the sweetest girl in all of the world, I now think I see her intentions a little more clearly. Yes, Bianca was offering up another bit of her creativity but she realized that this group paid well. And I'll bet she was clamouring for some more money.