Plumeria

Hmm, interesting quote you posted yesterday, Bob. It's difficult to quantify an artistic life. I got an email from the Nano folks last week. They've set up a Big, Fun, Scary Adventure Challenge for the year to encourage people to keep challenging themselves. I've signed on (you know I'm a sucker for that kind of team stuff) and my goals are to start and complete the final edit of Horizon and to knit a sweater, not knit on a sweater but to actually knit one that I can wear by Sept. 1. I already have the pattern, just need to afford the yarn; that'll be after Bonaire.

Have a Happy New Year! We're planning to make ourselves a nice supper and celebrate quietly.

The sun was high when Mona finally awoke and squinted her way out to the patio. Maria was in the kitchen clattering pots around but she took a moment to carry a mug of fresh-made coffee out and set it silently on a palm fiber mat on the glass-topped table. Her fingers rested ever so fleetingly on Mona's shoulder as she turned to go back to her work. Tears sprang to Mona's eyes at the simple gesture. The news of Jack's death must be all over the island, she thought. In the center of the table sat a clear glass bowl half filled with water; three flowers floated on the surface, their yellow centers looking like a pinwheel of yolk in a fried egg. The petals were so waxy she had to touch them to see if they were real. She had the feeling that nothing would seem real for a time until she was allowed to leave the island and begin building a new life on the shreds of the old one that had died with Jack.

Let's make 2008 a real writing year!
--Barbara