I’ve been reading a great deal lately. Carrying my Kindle with me wherever I go and reading, reading, reading a wild assortment of books from a detailed biography of the Jim Jones (yes, the Jim Jones of The Peoples Temple infamy), a charming and dated mystery by Ngaio Marsh, a brilliant new work of historical fiction with Edgar Allan Poe as a central character, a silly cozy, a popular mystery, a terrible mystery, a vintage Agatha Christie, and ‘The Signature of All Things’ by Elizabeth Gilbert.          That last one is an extraordinary book and it reminded me that reading—simply
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Today, I’m thinking about waiting on lines. NOT being online, but physically waiting in a line. During the lockdown, I remember a particular rainy morning, when I stood in a—carefully marked off for social distance—line outside the Whole Foods at Union Square. This was early in the pandemic experience, and I was wearing a homemade mask, a bright fuchsia floral print cut from a heavy cotton scarf. An elderly woman complimented me on the mask. “Most of them are so dull and ugly.” NO ONE was going inside to buy food without a mask. And that’s why we were lining
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I didn’t think the break from blogging would go on this long. I also didn’t think that the renovations and move into my new place would take over my life. It did. It has. And I’m just starting to work my way back to writing. I haven’t been idle. Packing, unpacking, and managing the renovations (aka yelling at contractors) takes up a great deal of time & brain capacity. I also got a few freelance assignments and working/writing felt good.          Am I back? Sort of… almost…          I’m writing stories in my head, but they are shy when it
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