I don't know if it's the general happiness of 2026 (compared to last year, anyway), spring about to arrive or just pure intellectual restlessness, but lately I've been missing writing for pleasure. Everything I do in that department is for income, and there's nothing wrong with that, either. One must pay the bills. It's just that I've always enjoyed writing stories for the sake of just writing stories. I have an archive of close to a thousand of them that I've never published. When I get like this I think about a guy I knew back in the day when I was writing for NY. We met online and I enjoyed talking shop with him so much we were becoming friends. He had a novel planned and it sounded really good, and I intended to help him on his way to publication once he did write it because he was very talented. Then suddenly, just after Hurricane Katrina, he drowned in a boating accident. I have not written anything outside what I do for the day job in a...
Last week my guy and I spent my Friday off going out and about; our first stop was to walk one of our favorite parks. Squirrels were everwyhere, and it was wonderfully cool. It also gave me time to think about some things. I'm so busy at home I hardly ever have the chance to do that anymore. We then walked across the street to check out this thrift store, also one of our favorites. I did not buy anything! Ha. I would like to donate some clothes to a local thift, however, and the church store we usually go to is overflowing with donations at the moment. These folks have more room, and support a regional hospital, so I'll make the trip. We stopped for some coffee, and sat outside to enjoy the weather. It was very busy in the Villages that day, so we got to people watch. Our last visit was to the Russell Stover outlet store (and yes, I did fall off the wagon and bought a little sugarfree candy. I'm only human!)