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PROGRAMMING NOTE from the Author and Archivist


So obviously I just stopped blogging on this platform. I'll get back to it eventually. Or not. I'm taking a break from all social media. It seemed necessary for my mental health.

The last few years have been busy and … challenging:

- 2015 Happened.
- 2016 Let's call it The Lost Year. (Obviously words failed me.)
- 2017 about broke me. Literally. Mentally.
- 2018 was ridiculous, proving 2017 was just a warm up. (Good thing I was already broken so it couldn't hurt as much.#2018TrashCanFire I thought things were going okay, but maybe not?)

- 2019 was such a blur. I know there were highlights, but then stuff happened and carried into the next year...

- And then in March#2020 really took a turn. Who can even categorize 2020? Do we dare?


I kinda want a do-over of some of the last few years. But life doesn’t work that way.


So for now, I'm hunkering down. Regrouping. Trying to stay safe and sort some stuff out.


Stay safe everyone. Stay well.

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Thursday, October 16, 2014

Quote of the Day: Inhale/Exhale

Cape Cod, October 2013
 Right now, the tide was far out, leaving a wide beach of pale-yellow sand. Black rocks were scattered here and there, like sleeping seals, and white gulls hopped about the shallow pools in search of food. The wind swept through the abandoned lighthouse like ghosts playing among old bones, and she took a deep breath, right into the bottom of her lungs. As she exhaled she felt the tension slip away and her shoulders drop. The vision of endless sea and sky lifted the heaviness that weighed upon her chest, and she felt a wonderful sense of relief. She walked over the sand, not caring that her expensive boots were getting wet, and marched on towards the ocean. As she neared the water the roar of the sea grew louder. It was a pleasant sound, nothing like the roar of traffic and she inhaled the salty air hungrily. The wind whipped her hair and the damp curled it so that the ... tendrils bounced down her back and across her face. Without a moment's regret, she pulled her iPhone out of her jeans pocket and threw it as far out to sea as she could. It landed with a plop and disappeared.

~ Santa Montefiore's Secrets of the Lighthouse, p. 46

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