I’ve been quiet since May, after a brief, powerful writer’s retreat. I’ve been busy this summer with what the retreat inspired: Writing. Revising. Writing.

Revising a new short story, one screaming for edits of late. It’s almost ready for submission.

Compiling a list of potential suitors for my novels. I’ll get going on fulfilling that list next week.

Enjoying motherhood and my spouse.

Avoiding politics—challenging, that. How can that orange haired—ah. See what I mean?

Reading: To The Bright Edge Of The World, Eowyn Ivey. All The Single Ladies, Rebecca Traister. Grave Mercy, Robin LaFevers. Penmarric, Susan Howatch. The Atomic Weight of Love, Elizabeth J. Church, House of Thieves, Kaui Hart Hemmings. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s must-read essay, We Should All Be Feminists. This One is Mine, Maria Semple.

A rich summer of novels, indeed. Eowyn Ivey’s novel has me utterly riveted.

Reads I’m anticipating: Today Will Be Different, Maria Semple. How To Party With An Infant, Kaui Hart Hemmings. Lab Girl, Hope Jahren.

Only two more weeks left (according to LAUSD) of a restful, exciting, adventuresome summer. Triple digit days are way too common in my Valley—but multiple field trips and get-aways and the ocean have eased the sweat, not to mention a faithful air conditioning system when we’re at home.

I might be hallucinating, but is that a tinge of Fall in the air? No. It’s my son’s Morning Bun from Starbucks.

Until we meet again, don’t forget to breathe.