I woke today to a surprisingly warm morning, and considering it was 6:30 this was not happy making.  It's officially the first day of summer, and I'm faced with the annual Wait for the Rains.  Every year in New Mexico, throughout all of May and June, we count down the hot, dry days, waiting for the summer monsoons.  Hoping they will come.  That this won't be the year where climate change begins to make the Southwest uninhabitable.

I love monsoon season not just because of the life giving moisture, but because I love violent weather.  New Mexico gives good thunderstorm, and from my cliff top I have a spectacular view of the fireworks, and the reverberation of the thunder literally shakes your body.  A curtain of dark grey rain is drawn across the little town of Lamy in the canyon below, like the sweep of a magician's cape.  After the rain clouds float beneath the cliffs, and the crows are merely raucous shadows in the gloom.

But the waiting for the rains made me realize how much I'm waiting in the rest of my life.  Waiting to see if the movie sells.  Waiting to see if Tor will buy another Edge book.  Waiting for the first urban fantasy to be released.  Waiting to see if it will take my career to a new level.

Maybe that's what we do our entire lives.  When we're kids we wait for Christmas, and birthdays and summer vacation.  As teenagers we wait for the phone to ring, and that boy to call us.  We wait to see if we're accepted at college, get that job.

I'd like to think I've done a lot of _doing_ in my life, but recently I've wondered if it's been enough or if I'll reach the end of my life and regret how much I waited for good things to happen.  Maybe I need to make them happen.  But that's the question, isn't it?  How do you make things happen?

Not good to be this pensive this early in the day and the week.  I'll go to Vento, and then come home and write my pages, and think about how to revise the third Edge book.  I guess those are all doing.