On the Brink of Harvest

Well, I'm back to edits. Yes, I just finished them last week, but let's just say I'm not the ONLY person who might be a cyborg. *Ahem* So no drawing today. I only have a few sketches that aren't worth scanning. But I have a few pictures, is that okay? Once again any spare moment I have goes to work, and sadly there are not many spare moments! Where did all my time go?

One sec...Ninja Girl's screaming to get out of her chair. Oh, and Dino Boy needs a juice refill. (Note to self: Must ration the juice so we can make it to tomorrow. Also, register Dino Boy for preschool.)

Wait, where was I? Oh yeah, I can't seem to find any time! It just magically disappears into the nether. But I squeak in a little work here and there. I might have to bribe Nick to let me go to the library tomorrow so I can make some real progress.

Anyway, as I'm heading into yet another edit on this project, I can't help but feel a little antsy. It reminds me of waiting for the vegetables in my garden to ripen. I'm so eager to pick them—and yet they're not quite ready.

I mean, it was easier to wait when the peas looked like this:
There was nothing to pick! Sure, I knew it would be a while until there were peas, that there'd be lots of watering and weeding and such. But the fruits of my labors were still a ways off. I could live with that, had to, really.

But now they look like this:

The cherry tomatoes are also taunting me:
But see how some of those pea pods aren't quite plumped yet? And notice how the tomatoes, even the red ones, aren't quite ripened. Almost, but not quite.

I can't tell you how hard it is not to pick them! I know they'll taste better in a few days. I know that if I keep watering and tending and waiting, they'll be ready. And yet I want to pluck them off the plants and eat them now. They'd be good—but they wouldn't be just right.

That's how I feel about my edits right now. I feel so close. Like, so close it hurts. Just a few more tweaks. Just a couple more changes. And honestly? I don't really want to do them. I want it to be done right now, but at the same time I know it's not. I know that if I pluck my manuscript off the symbolic vine, it won't be the best possible fruit. It'll be good, but it won't be quite as sweet and ripe as it should be.

How is it that time seems to slow down the closer we get? I swear the same thing happens in the last month of pregnancy, too. As far as we've come, at the same time we haven't quite made it and that's incredibly angst-inducing. There's nothing quite like being on the brink of done.

But word to the wise? Wait.