It’s not uncommon for a writer to suffer from what’s called Writer’s Block. In some ways, it resembles a Batter’s Slump. It’s frightening, frustrating, and fraught with self-doubt.
Fortunately, the dreaded void will not darken my door anytime soon.
Carly’s in the house.
Granddaughter number four, a college student at University of San Diego, the beautiful campus high on the hill just three miles from my house, has moved in with me for this first semester. She is a Political Science major.
It’s been three weeks now and I have enough writing material to last a very long time. She just walked in and asked, “Do I look like a pilgrim in this outfit?” When I assured her that she looked very cute in her mint green floral-patterned mini dress, she gave me a kiss and swished out the door heading for her class, The Politics of Racial and Ethnic Studies.
Hard to say which one of us is going to get the better education…