Sunday

This morning, as we were leashing up Rosie and Riley for the morning lake walk, I said, "For some reason, I am really keen to clean the basement today."

And Doug said, in his calm way, without even looking up from snapping on Riley's halter, "Is this another excuse so that you won't write?"

And hmmmm, perhaps it is, perhaps it is.  Above is a photo from yesterday; we spent five hours at the Irish Fair down on the Mississippi River, listening to music and watching dancers and drinking beer and eating fish and chips and watching the hurlers and the Border collies (which made us sad) and the photo displays of people's visits to Ireland, noting which of the antiquities and attractions we had also seen.  Yesterday, when I also was not writing.

Thanks to you all for your encouragement, wisdom and insight. I don't exactly have writer' block--if I have to write, I can write (I've been writing stories for work with little trouble). It's more just a lack of writers' passion.  It will return.  You can depend on it.

In the meantime, the basement calls...