Myself post-nanowrimo!

I like this picture.

It’s me, yesterday at the beach with Boy, tired, written out, thinking about the Holidays, about the goings on here, about myself, about the future which is unknown.

The month of December.

I wish I could be having the Christmases of my past.  When everyone I did Christmas for was still alive.

I feel like a ghost.

I do.

What I am going to try and do is make my grandmother’s cookies.  I’m going to have four trees.  One real one, one pine cone one I want to make, one twig one and the one I will show you that was so much like one my grandparent’s had in my childhood.

I bought a little camera, a Sony Cybershot — the battery is charging, but I’ll take pictures of what I am going to make and put the recipes.


I actually really like this picture.  I think it looks like a picture of a writer, which is what I have become.


ps: I am going to read what I wrote, now.  “Dreamstime.”  I’m almost afraid to see what I said?  Maybe that happens in first person POV.

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