I'm mostly lost in thoughts of the forest lately, trying to pin down the psyche of one of my characters. I emerge now and then to tend to my small bit of the world. I hosted my book club a few nights ago. Despite my unavoidable worries that people will be somehow disappointed in the way I live (Did you see that kitchen floor! What was up with all that weird art?) it went well. It's nice to be surrounded by thoroughly engaged readers. Our meetings are like the English classes I once imagined instead of the ones I actually suffered through.

I also joined a free writing group that meets in the same office complex as the clinic I used to work in. I like the idea that while I haven't left the world of massage, I have shifted positions slightly, tending to words in the same low brick building where I used to toil over muscles