>I am sitting at panera bread company where I just consumed a nice turkey artichoke panini with a bowl of baked potato soup. I was briefly, very, inspired to cook today, but then I swept the house, drank some coffee and tumbled back into the bed to finish ann patchett’s memoir, truth & beauty. Which, I believe, was both truthful and beautiful, as promised. I just caught a whiff of 2000, manhattan beach, California. Isn’t that strange? I wonder what it was? It’s nice to be able to use your laptop in public places with wi-fi internet access, but until the furniture set-up in these places has as much to do with ergonomically sound desk practices as it does with delightful food, it will not serve me very well for very long. The manager just snatched my empty dishes from my table. I don’t think in a necessarily angry or impatient way. Maybe just in a way that indicates he would rather be typing out his thoughts than be surrounded by lots of other people who are afforded that luxury during his shift.

This table height is, however, inspiring me to sit up straighter. Perhaps the ergonomic problem lies in my central nervous system and NOT in the design of the restaurant.

I was thinking about going to the movie today, but it would be better if I would skip that, go home, be artful and/or domestic and make something happen in either or both of those realms.

I wonder if I really am a writer? I mean, I write, therefore I’m a writer? I don’t know if it works that way. Because a lot of people write, and NO one reads what they write? Do you have to be read in order to really be considered a writer? Sort of like that tree falling in the woods thing? Whoever thought that up?

It’s fall today. It’s actually the one month anniversary of fall today, but for the first time in a while, it actually feels like fall. Which I love. We are supposed to be studying about fall right now, but alas! It has continued to be 93 degrees at night, and it seems a little nonsensical, fantastical, even cruel to fill these children’s heads with such tomfoolery as are the lessons about “fall” and leaves changing colors and falling involuntarily down.

When it comes time to save and name my writing files, I am always shaken by how difficult it is to actually call it one thing that will remind me exactly, precisely what I was writing about that day. In order to do that, I would have to make up a whole new variety of compound words.

There are not a lot of women in here typing. They’re all out shopping or resting or cooking or butt-wiping while their significant others are lounging in Italian bakeries sending instant messages to their secret lovers. Wouldn’t that be tragic if it were true? Un very cute man just walked in with his equally precious son.

I am going to try to get the Dallas Morning News to do a feature on Words and Voices, centering around the Jeffrey Steele show. He was just named Songwriter of the Year by NSAI a few weeks ago. I wonder if he is nominated for a CMA Award for producing work on the Montgomery Gentry album, which I believe is nominated for Best Album. Wouldn’t that be a hoot?

I am about to go over to Borders. I don’t know why. I should actually go to Half Price Books. More in the budget.

Actually, going home is more in the budget. Or to the movies. Why don’t more women write in public? Because they’re not used to having a voice? Or they are used to having interactive voices? Hanging out with a girlfriend, chatting? Which is better? Which is more helpful in the end? To discuss something with yourself or to discuss something with a friend? I guess it depends on the honesty of all involved.

It’s interesting to me how simple it is to crank out 679 words without even thinking about it. Could I do a Masters Degree? Where? Studying what? Counseling? Biblical Counseling? SMU? DTS? UT? Why can’t Baylor be closer? 180 mile round trip commute is a little excessive, especially in the age of hideously overprices gasoline with no hope in sight for positive change.

Lord E. Mama.