I found that, part of the soul satisfaction of turning in my latest feature, was writing in the Ernest Hemingway Room that’s beginning to look a little, not much, like Jo March’s attic.  But there in the blue and green vibes of it all, colors I seemed to soak in completely, swim in as it were, I completely enjoyed what I was doing, a much needed reminder of how much I love writing, and what an honor it is to have been consistently published.  March will mark my fifteenth anniversary with Louisiana Life, and I’m so grateful for that and all that went on before.  But writing this past weekend, I slipped back years ago when I wrote, I mean, to the way I felt back then.  As though everything had been polished over and the shine was revealed.  God, that was good

You know, my “visit” from Mom Saturday…I know she was there to remind me about a lot of things I needed reminding of, the good advice she always gave me on just about everything, but the main thing she seemed to be telling me to do was to be kind to myself. To enjoy myself, treat myself.  And to pray for myself and ask God things I would really like to have.  I don’t, you know.  I pray for everyone on my rapidly growing prayer list every morning, so many now I can’t remember everyone, I just say, for the people on my prayer list.  But I started adding me this past week.

Don’t know.  Feel happy, no sweating the small stuff.

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