and all I got were these lousy pictures, and a couple of days with a bestie.
Also, this remarkable series, which I am calling “Peter Stalking Things.”
Actually, it has been a nice few weeks. I had a visit with Aileen to Hermosa Beach (I’d never been before). We spent a good long time strolling in sand, disturbing sand flies and dodging them at the same time; and then we sat on her balcony and talked, and then we went to dinner. It was exactly what we would have done if we were back in New York, if we were on Coney Island or something.
I don’t even think I wrote about the Speakeasy Literary Retreat in April, did I? Or about the great experience I had as a panelist during the Mt. SAC Writer’s Weekend, did I?
What a terrible blogger. I used to blog something like five, six times a month, did you know that? I kind of miss it.
The news lately has been all-manuscript, all the time–I’m querying my thesis novel, in the hopes that it’s good enough to find representation, but one can’t be too hopeful about such things.
Hm. More later.