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Fri., Aug. 8, 1997 (from Portland, Oregon)
It doesn't seem like it's been a week and a day since we arrived. We leave in four days, and already I'm thinking about what I should do when I get back. What a drag. I try not to think about heat, humidity and miserable people who await our return. Okay, they're not waiting for us.
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Sun., Aug. 17, 1997 (11:53 p.m.)
I'm not sure where I was going with that.
We did so much wonderful stuff in Oregon, I couldn't begin to recount it. Hiking, picnicking, going to Motor Mocha. Where do I begin?
Now that we're back, we'll be taking off again, for Ocean City this time. Jet setters on the go. That's us. I kind of hate to leave the cats again, but well ...
I have taken a hiatus from temping to focus on the novel. I'm bound and determined to finish. I've tried to figure out how to make her (Sam) harder boiled, so to speak. I was thinking about some unfortunate incident from her past life as a reporter. Something, perhaps, involving the police? Hmmm.
Note from 2018: I'd completely forgotten that I'd considered making Sam a reporter in a previous life! :) Amazing.
