It was mostly terrifying.
I’m a sleepy gal this week.
I have a good excuse for not finishing any books.
If only it was in Margaritaville.
I’ll be a puddle of goo.
I’ve been working on rebuilding some routines.
At the risk of sounding insufferable, writing isn’t a hobby or a game.
Initially, I was going to skip this week.
It really does seem true that time speeds up as you get older.
Those things mean the world to me.
I’m just an ordinary gal on a rainy late morning.
This weekly(ish) blogging practice has helped me keep writing.
I’m trying to be more social-thinking.
My brain feels a little muddled.
What a week for reading!
An incredibly book-ish time, just the kind of trip I like.
There is something about a looming deadline to make you work.
Imposter syndrome is an old friend.