A slower pace

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Yesterday morning, I slept until 8 a.m.  I haven’t done that since college. 

 

Yesterday morning, I wrote up in my room watching the deer eat the corn I’d thrown out for them.

Yesterday, I went to a critique group meeting where inspiration and laughter flowed like the pumpkin spiced coffee clutched in the mittens of Texans who don’t like cold around us.

 

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Yesterday, I made a pie out of lard crust and thought I destroyed it.  It was the best pie I ever made.

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Yesterday, I roasted a chicken with out it being raw in the middle and burnt on the edges.  Ben said it was the best chicken I ever made.  He asked for seconds.  He never asks for seconds.

 

Ever since moving here, I get a lot more writing done, but not as much work.  I take a lot of walks, but I don’t fuss over things like I used to.

 

It’s different out here.

 

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  A new story mañana!

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And be sure to  check out my new book, the Cheesecake Queen with Inkspell Press! 

12 thoughts on “A slower pace

  1. I”m so happy that you’re enjoying your new house! Happy Thanksgiving, dear Duckie.

    (And I so do not make better pies than you. Just better crust, although mine is pretty ugly.)

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