I’ll remember this summer as the summer that wasn’t. It’s August, this morning’s breeze was chilly, and the sky was in a bad mood. My zen is somewhat ruffled by this un-summery weather. Last night, after I was released from the coils of the 405 South, after I fed Levi, after I washed the dishes, I skipped dinner ’cause my evening window closes fast, and I wanted to work on A Lamentation of Swans before the sleep fairy knocked me on the head. Silk River is ticking along, patrolling the edge of my consciousness. This morning I began to get my thoughts together about an article on the Secrets of the Silk Road exhibit I recently viewed at the Bowers Museum, and there’s a heroic fantasy anthology I want to submit a short story to.
Saturday is Writing Day with Michelle, and I’ve nearly finished laying out my Short Story Writing Workshop agenda, giving myself a nice long 4-day weekend to do it, and I’m so looking forward to time away from the commute.