I was just looking through the books I have out on the shelf in the living room when a wave of sadness came over me at how many I have not *yet* read. I have stopped buying books because I have so many waiting, and I really miss reading them. Currently I'm reading The Richest Season, and then I want to finish some novel-writing texts I'm almost through. After that, I'm moving on to the bookshelf. It's time I get back to reading every day. It's more about restructuring the time I have rather than finding it. Of course, writing needs to fall in there too, but it will.

Yesterday was a friend's BBQ that he has every year, so I end up seeing these same "strangers" once a year, saying hi and catching up. I can't believe that year has passed and where I wanted to be is nowhere in sight. It's given me (another) jumping-off point; next time that BBQ comes around I need to have specific things done, specific things to say. At least one of us can talk about being published!