I’m writing this on Sunday, August 29. This week, I just have to make it through to Thursday, and the rest should be clear sailing. Tomorrow I have a meeting at work that will set up the rest of the work I have to get done this week, and that’s really all I care to say about the day job (I like to draw a bright line between the thing that pays my bills and all the other things that collectively make my life). Monday night, I have a meeting of my writing group, Writers under the Arch, where I will read the first half of the last chapter of the manuscript. I will have to e-mail them the other half of the chapter. By the end of the month (yes, that’s two days from now), it’s off to the editor again. The 31st is Tuesday, and that’s also our anniversary, but Mike and I aren’t getting each other any gifts, because on Thursday night we’re getting on a plane and flying to Portland and seeing our friend Mikey. On Saturday the three of us are driving up to Seattle, with a short stop in the little town where my parents live, and then Mike and I are spending the evening catching up with James dba Boo and his beau Justin, as well as their dog Vincenzo, who is one of the cutest things on four legs. Then on Sunday, we are off to the pier where we’re getting on a big boat and going to that place where you can see Russia from.
I just have to make it to Thursday first. Oh, and I have to finish packing.