Hello from the end of a better day, and the end of the container of shredded Parmesan.

I made some writing progress last night, which felt good, but ultimately what difference does it really make?

I guess you could say the same thing about showering. Or waking up. Or eating. We do it to do it all over again. This is one of my daily things. It is part of my routine. I eat. I sleep. I make maple syrup sweetened oat cookies on Saturday evening. I write and rewrite this book. 

Tonight though is not Saturday, so I’m trying not to eat any more. But I still feel hungry. Especially after watching an old video of my 4.5 year old. The neighborhood fest is back for the first time in 3 years! And, when my daughter was 2 she was a big fan of a street musician at the festival. We were there on Friday night, a spur of the moment decision. A Friday after we walked dogs together. We got cupcakes and she ran up and down the ramp by the bank and she would click her tongue when she wanted to talk about the singer, who we dubbed “Pony girl” because of her rainbow hair.