The featured image is a bit of a lie. Originally, I intended to write something a few weeks ago about spring being on its ways and the blossoming buds on the flowers in front of our home being some sort of metaphor for me coming out of my whatever and doing something something. I would have filled in the blanks, I’m sure of it.

Then real life happened.

I’ve talked before about writing/trying to write with kids. Even being a stay-at-home dad, with all my “free time,” doesn’t allow for more than two hours of writing a day, on good days. Even then I have to wake up before the desert sun decides to start cooking us all. (It’s actually been rather cool these last few weeks, strangely. We haven’t gotten any snow in Phoenix like Tucson has, 120 miles south of us, but it’s been windy, cold, and more hail than we’re used to.)

No. That post never came to be. That check-in never came to be. If I have to choose between working on something that will hopefully some day get me paid or writing on here for free with no intent to make money, then the choice is easy.

Now the front yard flowers look like this (taken only yesterday):

We can’t stop time. But so long as we’re doing something meaningful with it, I think that’s okay.

I’ve been doing meaningful work, even when I can’t write on here every day. The books are coming along, agents are being queried, and I’m strangely optimistic about the future. Why? No discernible reason.

Thanks for reading,

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