Joy – definition – a source of happiness
Golly. Gosh. Good Grief. How long can two people talk without needing a break? It seems to me each time I get together with an old friend, we talk and talk and talk to catch up. When there is that much that needs to be said, there must be a special connection. It isn’t everyone you do that with, and so, when you have the opportunity – an explosion of words happens. That just occurred. What joy!
Is autumn starting early? The cooler weather is lovely, but combine it with shorter days and I am beginning to get that fleeting feeling of fall. This has been such a great summer, I am really not ready to give it up.
Well, my eyesight has changed quite a bit since last year. I would like to blame it on the stress of moving, but I suppose aging has a bit to do with it also. Drat, as I used to say when I was an eloquent kid. Hopefully, when the new specs come, it will improve the amount of time I can spend writing.
I am working on correcting my inconsistent grammar in novel #2. I apologize that in this blog, you don’t get the benefit of an editor looking over my shoulder. You get the raw stuff! Oh shucks, golly, gosh, and good grief, you can probably tell I didn’t like looking at a manuscript full of red ink!
I’ll get over it.
It has been noted that in this new house, I am letting the whimsical supersede the prim, or, I am letting my grandchildren’s joy outweigh my need for magazine perfection. It was probably the fairy lights that lead to the secret garden that gave it away. Either I am headed toward my second childhood, or I simply want to enjoy their joy. Either way, I want them to have a magical memory of their Grandmother, which is another way of saying they have me thoroughly wrapped around their precious little fingers.