It’s Saturday morning, and I use the term loosely because the sun won’t rise for more than an hour in this timezone, but something was calling me to get up, get moving. I haven’t felt well for a long while, it seems, not so much sick but out of tune with myself, and this morning, I’m foggy but definitely awake.

My skin itches, and I think it’s psychological as much as physical. I’m sloughing something off, forming new surfaces of body and brain.

I bought business cards a few weeks ago that identify me as a writer, and even though we owe the Feds a small amount, I’m actually happy about that because, as I posted somewhere, I actually had paper profits from writing. In my first year of freelancing. Was it a book contract? No. But that will come.

I’m thirsty, but the words needed to tumble out first, and now they have, a little, and I’m about to go make, not coffee, but fresh-squeezed orange and grapefruit juice and then perhaps take the dogs out for a pre-dawn jaunt through the neighborhood.

A chocolate cat has replaced the giant orange tabby as the stray on our front lawn. It’s beautiful, so graceful…and it seems to offend Miss Cleo less than the other.

I’m preparing my very first podcast.
More on that later.