Until I try to do something....I've been coasting on an excellent writer's conference for the last few days - feeling as if life might have a purpose after all, as if writing might be a place for me to put my head, holey or not. It has put a wide smile on my face and a song in my heart.
Then I dared a walk downtown. It's a whole mile round trip and I foolishly picked up flour and sugar at the grocery store. With bags and cane and etc, twas a difficult drag home. I made it, but realized that ol' right leg just isn't worth much anymore - without the steadying cane, I swung back and forth across the sidewalk like I'd been tippling....
Hmm. Tippling. Sounds like a good idea. After all, most writers drink, right?
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