Another day of playing.

    Wind has been blowing a cold breeze all weekend to keeping us tucked in our warmest clothes, though I am pretty sure our heater does work. Writing came and went like all fleeting thoughts as my son beckons me to play. I always favor him over writing. OK, most of the time. There are those moments where I just had a great idea for a plot line and need to get it on paper before I forget (and I do forget often), but he is very persistent.
    In the end, he wins and I have to come up with a different plot line to the book. It takes longer to write but it's worth it. Oh, and the fireplace I mentioned in the first blog doesn't exists. Somehow I think having one would just make the house colder. When we used to live in a house that had one, I had forgotten to close that flap inside the chimney more times than I care to remember. And smoked out the house when I forgot to reopen it before starting a fire. So goes life.