Abounds

Dear Blog,

Well, hey, there.  How have you been?  You've had that silly Night of the Living Dead picture from Halloween up for a while now.  Are you a little embarrassed about that?  I thought you might be. I'm sorry I left you like that for so long, but I'll tell you what I've been doing and maybe you'll feel more understanding.

Before I do that, though, I have to ask: did Typepad merge with WordPress?  Because, you know I use both, and suddenly you look an awful lot like my WordPress blogs.  Just here, on the dashboard page.  Curious, that.

I kind of wish I were a poet; I'd write you a poem.  I know you'd find that difficult to resist.  It would go something like this, only better:

Students. Conferences.  Papers.  Crises.  

I8-year-olds abound.

Words abound: NaNoWriMo

Hitting 15,000 was a triumph. Want 40,000 by Monday.

Story sucks, but still I write.

Froth intended. Darkness.  It abounds.

Trip to Tennessee to celebrate

MB

and visit dearest Sheila

Brother, niece and nephew, too.

Woke the week before

Determined that poor-no-name-slob of a Sony Vaio and I

must finally part

ways.  He found a loving home, 

I found Rupert and love.

Knitting. It is sparse.  

Pictures.  They will come.

November. It abounds.

I hope this letter finds you well.  If you have any other readers beyond me, give them my love.  

Your,

Beverly