Sunday night thoughts

 My girls and their sons left about eleven this morning after a breakfast flurry to go to a TCU/Baylor baseball game in Waco. Ford, nine, thinks at this point he wants to go to TCU on a baseball scholarship; Jacob, almost ten, remains a firm Baylor fan and was devastated to know that their seats were right behind the TCU dugout. Scholarship? I don’t think he’s even thought about the concept.

Laundry to do, dishwasher to empty—somehow I dislike that last chore more than others. I spent the day mostly working at my desk, doing a few household chores, and taking a long nap to recover from staying up too late with my wine-drinking daughters last night. The visit was too short but so delightful.

Reading with horror/amusement about the Republican state convention in town this week. They rant that homosexuality is forbidden in the Bible. Former President Jimmy Carter has pointed out that it is never mentioned in the Bible and existed long before Christ’s time. The state platform also says it is abhorrent to Texans—wonder how many they polled on that. And abortion is out the window—again. I love narrow minds—NOT.

Hillary Clinton just sent me a fund raiser that said, “We won’t win this one without a fight.” Truer words may never have been spoken, but I doubt she expected this much of a fight when she went into the campaign. And if she and Trump are the nominees it will only get worse and nastier. I admire Bernie for hanging in there and for his answer when Barbara Walters wanted to know one word he would want his presidency known for: compassion. I admire Hillary for campaigning like the trooper she is and taking the high road. I am really tired of the Facebook posts about what a crook she is—do these people not read the news? And ditto for posts about what slime her husband is—he made a huge, unforgiveable mistake, but he did a lot of good as president. Too many people ride their hobbyhorses to death.

So here I sit, the one writing chore I assigned myself today done plus this blog. I have three books to read for a contest, so I think I’ll continue with one. My brain is rattling with ideas for another book—and one of them is about a man. Hey, wait, it’s me who always writes about women. Got to keep working those ideas on the back burner of my brain. One day I think I should finish the two mysteries I have started; the next I think historical fiction like The Gilded Cage is my forte. And occasionally the thought creeps in that maybe I’m through; I should content myself with managing the books I’ve written and not start another. I try to bat that thought away.