I'm hoping that I am emerging from my recent orgy of self-pity. It's just that sometimes it feels as if you're so stuck. Days and then weeks keep repeating. Nothing seems to conclude. The endless waiting for the rewrites from my editor have had a Beckettian or Sartrian tone to them that has been maddening. And yet I cannot only blame her. I have about twenty pages of pages that she has already corrected however I keep failing to find the time to dig into them.

But her new assistant called today asking for my address so it seems that tomorrow I will get another chunk of the book. That hope inspired me to dive back into Bedtime Stories today. I love the book so and it is so interesting for me to gauge my mindset now versus how I was when I was suddenly single.

I also sold my car, I think. Once my house sells as well then I will have definitively severed my ties with California.

As I hurtle towards the half-way to 90 mark I just might have a reason or two to rejoice.

Birthdays as a single parent are hard because my kids want to get me a present but they can't ask their mother for the money, they have to ask me. Kind of takes the surprise out of it. Still, the fact that my nine-year-old even remembered floods me with so much love that I can't help but smile.