Sheila's Guests and Reviews

I wander the internet, meeting a world of wannabe writers like me, and real writers, and really skilled wannabes, and maybes, and almosts, and ams. I pick up hints which I try to obey, and I work on remembering to say that "I write" when people ask "What do you do?" They usually walk off muddled and confused. One thing I learned a long while back was that you're always meant to carry a stack of business cards. "You'd be amazed how many opportunities you get to give them away," or so they say. Though I haven't plucked up courage yet to offer cards to strangers, and I'm still unamazed. I do carry them though, most of the time, but when I went to my son's graduation, I decided not to bother. It was his day, not mine. And for the first time ever, someone sitting next to me asked "What do you do?" was interested in my answer, and wanted to know how he could find my books. John, if you're out there, you'd've made my day ...

One son's a doctor. One just got his Bachelor's. And I feel old. So now I'm home after a long and eventful weekend. Real life looms with growing weeds and rain outside the window-pane. Inside the cupboards are emptying fast, while washing machine and dryer are full to overflowing. The rooms explode with sheets and towels and several weeks worth of black and white tee-shirts on top of holey jeans. I struggle to have and to fold, and can't hold onto the children because they're all grown. Still, I also feel proud, just in case you were wondering. And stunned and astonished at the sons' achievements. And glad that I could watch one while my husband watched the other because, in accordance with Murphy's Law, they graduated on the same day at the same time but in different states. So, if I've seemed to be slow to respond to emails, and oddly absent from the internet and your posts, now you know why. It was a really good weekend.