I’m just checking in with you to say that I can’t blog right now. I’m working on a new book. A novel. Science fiction romance. About a woman who philanders with a robot and how it saves her marriage. Working title is “The Toothbrush.” Target release date is Spring 2022.
For 11 months the garage was out of bounds, his personal domain, a secret kingdom hidden behind a veil of mist, motor oil and mildew.
Our life is better thanks to the efforts of thousands of people we don’t even know, the public good in action.
After becoming a widow, 11 years single, and hooking up again during a raging pandemic, I have a whole new appreciation of being domestic.
Watering the garden is a special time of day when I imagine myself a mermaid among roses soaking up a wildly delightful moment of luxury.
This guy I’m living with is relentlessly cheerful. Sometimes I’m so ornery just seeing him smile gets on my nerves.
My jean jacket is wabi-sabi style in the Japanese aesthetic tradition of appreciating the imperfect, the impermanent, and the incomplete.