Hi. I was gone. I wasn't really here long anyway. Writing is problematic lately.

Allyson, Jilli, I'm looking forward to reading your books!

Bedroom window view, huh?

Past two trees, I can see the gravel lane curving down the hill, to the little bridge over the brook, disappearing into honeysuckle. I can see the fields of our farm, and the fields across the road, and the hills along the river. This is the view from my bedroom window, as long as I can remember.

No one lives here anymore. The house is falling into disrepair, the barn sagging with disuse, weeds where crops were; where animals and workers and family once were, now there's no one.

But the view outside my bedroom window is still the same.

MAybe a drabble will make me less nervous about my date:

The late afternoon sun slants in through the blinds, turning my cat's eyes into little gems. She slits her eyes, looking out the bedroom window, vigilant for stray cats patrolling the dumpster outside. I obligingly stritch her ears and look outside with her.

No strays, no squirrels even, just the red brick of the apartment bulding across the alley.

Lynne's silver Subaru crunches over the gravel.

I stick my head out the window (the screen is still on the ground outside from where I pushed it out, breaking into my own house a month ago.)

"Hey!" I holler.

"I hate rain," she replies. "Want to come up for coffee?"

I think about my lack of cream, squint up at the spitting winter sky.

"Let me put some pants on, and I'll be right up."

headdesk headdesk headdesk headdesk

I hate long form synopses. I hate long form synopses. I hate long form synopses.

headdesk

I don't really feel your pain, Deb, having never written one, but...

Here's a Vicodin, a glass of Prosecco and a foot rub.

And stabbies for those who need 'em.

Erin, they're gruesome. I do two paragraphs at a time, grinding my teeth the entire way, and then have to step away because I'm talking to myself out loud, saying things like "I took the time and the trouble to write it, why can't you just READ the damned thing, you lazy #$#$#$..."

Hate. Hate hate hate.

And joining Allyson on the "as dust" Bench of Impatience. Except I know that since the deadline for the "Restless" submission is 15 February, they won't even start looking until after that.

I foresee ulcers in my near future.

"I took the time and the trouble to write it, why can't you just READ the damned thing, you lazy #$#$#$..."

This is where my sympathy lies. JUst SKIM the damned MS.

Tell ya what: I'll write the synopsis, you go on my date.

No, seriously. N. will understand.

perking up

Go on a date? I've never done that before. Is it tricky?

It's making me want to vomit.

Why? I gather that means yes, it's tricky, but I'm clueless about the whole ritual. Why is it tricky? Is he someone you care about?

Nope, internet date. And he looks fuun, cute, interesting, smart...I just HATE first dates.

I feel kinda like I'm up on a block, and I should have "caveat emptor" tattooed on my head.