It’s summertime and I’m melting into the cracks of the couch.
If you can’t find me, that’s where I am. Buried in the couch with spare change of little consequence–pennies–maybe a nickel or two, and pocket lint probably mixed with some belly button lint, and lone popcorn kernels that failed to fulfill the measure of their creation and pop. (I told the kids not to eat on the nice furniture. Geesh! They never listen.) I’m surprisingly comfortable here. At least I can’t hear the kids fighting. (Summer–it’s a love/hate relationship.)
Sooooo, how’ve you been? How’s your summer?
It’s been awhile since I’ve been here. I know. I know. If my log in weren’t automatically remembered by firefox, I likely wouldn’t remember it myself.
How’s my summer been? (Thank you for asking.)
My summer has been goooood. I’ve been running a lot before dawn. I love running early in the morning. Once the sun is up it is too dang hot to even think about running. Seriously. Then I would melt into the crack of the sidewalk….
And, also, I’ve been writing. Lots and lots and lots of writing. Hours. And I’m getting closer to finishing another round of revisions. I knew that writing a book was hard work. And you know what? Now that I look back, I was naive in my assumption. Writing a book is DANG hard work. (Utah slang. I love it.)
Still, I love writing.
But, mostly, right this minute, I’m too hot too think, but lucky the cracks in the couch do not require much of me. I think I’ll hang out here until it cools off a little. . . .