I had every intention of spending the bulk of yesterday at my desk writing, but as we all know the road to Hell is paved with good intentions--and I never made it. I didn't goof off, no, I didn't. I sewed a curtain for the kids' new apartment door, went to the Farmer's Market with Durwood, and went to Mom's to plant chives in her little balcony garden and take out her trash. I also went and spent some...okay, most of my saved-up extra pay from working when Mrs. Boss was on vacation at the yarn shop. By the time evening rolled around and supper was finished it was almost 8 PM and I was tired. It's an excuse, I know, but it's all I've got. There's no chance that I'll be writing this afternoon because I'm meeting my knitting pals in a downtown park for a World Wide Knit in Public event. It's mostly just an excuse to get together and knit, but it's also a way to show the muggles that not only grannies knit. And I confess, I didn't write Friday night, but I did last night and here it is.
June 12--Vava'a, Tonga. Some days as you sail toward an island you hope that there's on one there. That you can lay on the beach enjoying being in a place that's holding still. That has fresh water and a little fruit and maybe a little meat but not many people. Other times you want to sail into a party with loud music, rum drinks flowing like water, and people dancing in the street. Grayson steered toward the thin line of green on the unrelenting blue horizon hoping there was a party, just so he could hear his own voice as it touched someone else's ears.
Oh, I like that, it's short but I really like it. Enjoy your Sunday.
Jenny, I suspect that you and (most of the time) I are among the few submitters who do a little research before we send in a story, so I wouldn't take it too personally. I agree though, acceptance is better than rejection. Smokelong's getting Harbinger today.