People get sick. It happens. I’m not sick, but I’m keeping the sick company… so I’m not going to the LYS like I had hoped to…

I was making a purse from this book by Laura Irwin. I ran out of yarn. But it’s all okay: I’m simply omitting the flap closer which will save yardage and, though it will be close, I can have a flapless purse; Instead, I’ll opt for a zipper and I’m hoping it will be super cute.

Sorry. Still no pictures.

I’ve gotten some good writing done. It’s kind of mundane: about mundane people, mundane events…the interesting part is the psychology. What makes mundane people do mundane, though odd, things. For instance, why does a grieving widow date the same (slightly creepy) man for three months, at which point suggesting sex–even though she isn’t in the slightest attracted to him? That’s my character now. It’s more an exercise in understanding the heads of characters. My goal is to get this woman’s strange and somewhat uninteresting behavior to be understanding and intriguing. This woman wears black on her Friday night dates; she hates the fact her steady date is an electric train enthusiast and is repulsed by the degree of affection he displays toward his mother.

Okay. Maybe it’s a little lame. But at least I am writing again. I keep telling myself that. It’s practice, and other ideas will spawn, I am sure, from this lame little exercise. If nothing else, I might even keep up the habit. I used to be so diligent–but lately I find I never write, and this, at least, is a positive change of pace.