It’s Like Winter in Cleveland


   We’re having another dreary day of cold rain. We’ve had so many of them that my husband commented, “It’s like winter in Cleveland.”  Not to deprecate Cleveland, but we lived there for five years, and the winters were pretty depressing.

   Having to curtail my activities because of another shoulder replacement, except for an occasional trip out for Pain and Torture (PT), has reduced my world to four rooms: bedroom (to sleep), office (to write), kitchen (to grab what’s available to eat; I’m not cooking) and family room (to watch revolting news and yet another death on Downton Abbey). Oh and of course the bathroom, but I don’t spend much time there unless I’m reading a good book.

   I check my email twice a day and have been working hard on finishing up my interview notes on applicants I interview for UNC’s School of Medicine. Beyond that I’m waiting on returns from CreateSpace, where my first book is being massaged into something hopefully intriguing for Kindle.  All of which has left me in a singularly uncreative frame of mind.  So I’m now going through the critiques for all of the chapters on the new book (nine so far) that have come from my two critique groups.  This has just added to my mental malaise because I‘ve missed three meetings of one group because I don’t have a way to get there.  Driving is still a couple of weeks away.

   So right now I’m channeling Annie and mentally humming The Sun Will Be Out Tomorrow.  Crap, another year until Downton Abbey returns.



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