School ended on Thursday, which also happened to be my 46th birthday. School often ends on my birthday; when I was a child I regarded this as a mark of favour from the gods. Now I see it for the curse that it really is. It just adds insult to injury, is all. Oh, well. This year’s end was marked by Dan’s traumatic and tear-filled goodbye to his beloved teacher. It was a pretty teary event all around, actually. Anyway, it’s over now and he is soothing his soul with a new electric guitar. Sweet, eh? As for me, I’m still 46. That’s the age my father was when he died and it’s kind of freaky to think about that. Of course, perhaps I should just not spend so much time thinking. Or I should think about things that actually have a point more often.
Submitted an outline for a one-day workshop to the Alexandra Writers Centre yesterday, and hope they’ll be interested in me giving it in the fall.
Now that the boys are a little older and tend to spend a lot of time on bikes with their buds, summer is not such a fallow time for me anymore. Which is good, because I have things I need to do, like get after setting up some readings. Finish those two stories I have apparently been working on the last few weeks and get them out there. And then get rewriting that novel. I’m thinking proofs should show up here before too long, as well. And then I guess we’ll head out for some Island time at some point, though that’s up in the air because of renos we’re having done this summer. So summer looks a little chaotic at this point, but it’s good to keep busy. Keeps you from thinking too much.