Journaling

Last night I traveled to France. And before I had my bearings, a French woman fell for me. I would have liked to know her better but I had to travel on. 

And then this morning, just before waking, I was walking somewhere in the Southern United States with a beautiful young lady looking for a particular seafood restaurant. She had ordered a drink to walk around with, which turned out to be Miller Lite in a gallon-sized glass jar. She handed it to me, and I saw doubt in her eyes. Once in the restaurant, we were seated with a party at a long picnic table.  She was given a chair and seated behind the rest of us. She'd have to hold her food on her lap. This wouldn't do, and it made me anxious. I woke up trying to solve the problem.

Missed opportunities and crossed signals seem to be the theme. You know what though?  My bedroom is clean. All is well. 

Saturday, already. The boy is coming here for the weekend. We've got homework to catch up on. We'll watch a movie or two together. We'll endeavor to stay out of the reach of this bug. 

Last year, I was in Texas for New Year's. I set a few goals for the upcoming year and then abandoned most of them before January was out. The one goal I managed to accomplish was writing every day. Just about all of that writing is here in the form of blog posts. 

Next year, I'm hoping to submit for publication. Instead of writing off the top of my head, like I'm doing now, then moving on to the next thing, I want to spend a little time developing and editing. I'm thinking about posting less frequently - maybe two or three times a week - in the coming year. 

This morning's too cold for the birds. I poured the last of the black sunflower seeds in the two feeders an hour ago, and not one has come. I've woken up cold like that many times - thankfully, not in quite some time. But I remember. It's bleak and it hurts. It makes you feel loveless and forsaken. Show a little pity for the birds and the wild things and the people. Give a little help.