This is the last summer of my thirties. There are a few things, changes, notes, meanderings I'd like to share.
I thought I'd have that elusive thing called time when I stopped the 9-5 thing. Funny.
My blogging has changed. It had to. I use this forum to think out loud. To escape. To try out pieces of prose. I'm delighted to read your comments. I love you. Really. But I can't keep up with you! So I lurk and comment when necessary. Please forgive me. Do you like the blog face lift? Let me know. I'm a writer, I can handle it. Leather skin we have, we writers.
I'm working hard on my novel. With amazing notes from my incredible agent I'm making it the novel it deserves to be. My kids and husband are suffering from these edits... but guess what? In this, the summer of my thirty ninth year, I DON'T CARE. Go chase your own peace, family. I've found mine and I'm flying in the clouds. Catch my tale or be left behind. (Incorrect use of TALE put there on purpose.)
My grandmother Suzy (yep, I'm named for her) died when she was thirty nine.
And in a way, an odd and beautiful sort of way-- I did too.