Raging fires in Sonoma and LA, homeless people sleeping on sidewalks and in parks, politics that we won't discuss--the world feels dystopian. The feeling that I should do something--what I don't know--makes it hard to concentrate on writing.
New dog and I are doing fine. The rescue org said 6 years old, but my vet says she is more like 2 or 3. This explains the puppy-like behavior, vertical leaps and twirls when she knows we are going for a walk. I tried to add a picture - it didn't work. She is a black and silver Alaskan Malamute, on the small side at 70 pounds.
It's been a lousy week, a short story rejected. I still miss my dog who died last month, and then.... Last night I spotted one of my books featured among mysteries at a downtown library, and this morning the sun was out - notable for San Francisco in August. I'm smiling again.