Usually, I take a picture of our Thanksgiving table. Sometimes I send it in a text with a greeting to others. This year, besides a few two-word exchanges, the once sweet stress day filled with relatives I might only see then passed quietly with no photographs. We ended up watching the Macy Parade – brava! A bit later, the dog watched the first twenty minutes of the Westminster Dog Show with interest, then retrieved a ball for us to throw. The snow arrived, but not a deep one. On Friday, the ceiling painting commenced and now patches are on the wall.

It is the scary season and since I’m writing this after editing pages to send to the awesome writing club at the library AND editing and printing copies of the next installment of a weird little tale for the Friday group AND it’s Wednesday, not a last minute Friday scribbled post, we all ought to be terrified that I’m ahead of schedule on anything, let alone multiples. Actually, what it means is that the writing is returning to a primary status…or so I hope. How are you? How are your thoughts?

My attempts at strict discipline, whether adhering to an exercise schedule or in regards to an aspect of writing, are often effective…for a short while. I haven’t had much success with that approac…