In case you’re confused by the title of this blog–and who could blame you if you were–it’s supposed to sound like the song.
Just be glad I didn’t actually SING it.
As some of you know, I share my birthday with my late dad, Grady “Skip” Lael, so we’re including him in the festivities.
I have writing to do, especially after being away for a while, but I’m not sure that will happen today. Big plans: grocery store, a possible stop at Target for new pajamas (only my “famous author” clothes are fancy–everything else is built for everyday life and, in most cases, splotched with paint or gesso–or both), a quiet dinner with family, right here on the old homestead.
How do I feel about being a year older? Grateful, for the most part. After all, consider the alternative…
New York stories begin tomorrow.