TIRED

I really am not Superwoman, even though I often think I am. Having delusions of omnipotence usually serves me well — I just think I can write or do whatever interests me.

However, as the advanced age of Not As Old As Mick Jagger (I figure that’s a good way to put it) I really cannot get on a plane at 1 in the afternoon, fly to NYC and then across the Los Angeles, arrive at the hotel at 10 pm, get up the next morning and talk for 6 hours, go out for a fabulous dinner, collapse in bed and then fly back home the next morning at 11 (arriving home at 2 am).

Can. Not. Do. It.

Problem is, I had a fabulous time! Wonderful people, great crowd, decent weather, divine food. Loved loved loved it. But next time I find a friend in Southern CA and visit for a few days in between those brutal flights.

But LARA rocks! (Los Angeles Romance Writers — check ‘em out if you’re in the area).

There were so many things I forgot to say. So I'm thinking I will dispense wisdom here, perhaps at least every Tuesday. I am a miserable failure as a blogger, even if I can talk for 6 hours straight and write 4k words a day when I'm on a roll. But I'll try to improve.

And now I will collapse. Talk amongst yourselves!