I am honored by your presence.
Thanks for being there.
Thanks for being there.
Earlier I was in the yard earlier pulling cords, unraveling
hoses—what is it with those long instruments? I am grateful for them, however,
for I have taken over lawn care.
I bought an electric mower that needs a cord attached. I
bought it for I have a terrible time pulling the cord to start a gas mower, and
I didn’t want gas anyway, and I was too cheap to get an entirely battery
powered one. “The yard is small, this will work,” I said. So far I have not driven over the cord, thus
shredding it, or electrocuting me, but with a tree in the middle of the yard
and me circling it, and the cord getting tangled—well, you get the idea.
When we built our house in Marcola I said, “No lawns.” We lived
in the forest, had decking surrounding the house, I had a flower garden, and
container plants, but no lawn. Now I’m back
to one.
I am beginning to be something like Anna Quindlen (in my
dreams) only in this regard: Her husband gave her the best line that has often
appeared with her byline: “Could you get up and get me a beer without writing
about it?”
Some bloggers think everyone is interested in the minutia of
their lives—I hope I’m not getting to that stage. Just painting a picture of what is happening
around our abode. To read or not to read, that is your choice.
Yesterday I sent my manuscript and cover for Don’t Tell Mommy to
BookBaby for publication. That was after much
hand-wringing, soul search, and nervous jitters. It is telling my secret. The
book will be sold on e-readers only unless I have advanced sales to have a
soft-cover printed. And I don’t have the price yet and don’t know when I can
promise delivery.
The cover will be unveiled in a couple of days.
Who will see the book? Who will buy it? Time will tell.
In the meantime I am sitting in the seat labeled FAITH.
