Today is the twenty-third anniversary of Elizabeth's suicide. She would have be, I think, forty-seven, which is a strange, sad thought, indeed.
The sun's back. It reappeared late yesterday. The weather is still a little cooler than is usual for August here. Currently, it's 83˚F, with the heat index at 87˚F.
Yesterday, we proofread the galleys of
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Nice cat lumps. They're doing what I want to do to-day.
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I think that's very wise of you.
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What she/he said. I can't imagine what that person meant. "Out of touch" with what? You come here to write about your life and your work. People baffle me.
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