Last Saturday, Sarge and I got up early to see our wedding venue decked out for a wedding. The sun was out and I could picture next year, our people in that room. ‘And we’ll announce you from here,’ said the events planner person. And I cried. We headed toward breakfast and I wondered again why I order pancakes anywhere that isn’t my Dad’s house. Sarge finished them off for me, and I made him shoot some cherry blossoms on…
And so, I’m friends with my Dad. On Facebook and in real life. After I posted my post yesterday, he posted this on Facebook: It pays to be friends with your Dad, people. It means a lot. It means, amongst many other things, that any baby picture of you he decides to share will be of the non-embarrassing sort. You hope. I love you, Dad.…
And so, I’m ‘doing’ NaNoWriMo this year. We have always had a strange relationship. Past attempts have seen me bang out 20,000 words and then well, edit them. Note to self and others: Don’t. Do. That. I have a penchant for abandoning projects in favour of others which I think ‘sound better’, and I don’t finish anything. Except really short stories or ‘novel excerpts’. Novel excerpts are short stories that wouldn’t shut up. See, I don’t like writing that sounds…
