Slow Day

Carolyn got a new pair of pumps today. She didn't really need them, but occasionally people need to shop for the sake of it.

I've ideas for a few more stories to write, but am having trouble putting substance to any of them. Writer's block or more creeping senility? Sometimes all my thoughts tangle into a big knot, and I can make no sense of them for days, at least. My creative spirit is temperamental; it may not show its ghostly self for months or even years, but when it does, I try to glean from it all that I can. Case in point; the story that I wrote over the weekend was the first that I've attempted in more than a year, although I have made some poetry during the time.

Over the weekend, we watched Sling Blade for the first time and it's really a great movie. We also watched Robin William's Man of the Year, which wasn't bad.

"You know, Rick, I have many a friend in Casablanca, but somehow, just because you despise me, you are the only one I trust."