My friend, H.W., suggested in a poem “become the novel you live.” What a good line.
The novel of my life has lots of action but the plot hasn’t been developing towards a climax and resolution that the author (me) is in control of. That’s the trouble with letting life just happen all around you.
Some of what has been happening, though, follows:
Went to North Carolina
last week and drove on more twisty turn-y roads than you can imagine. Saw waterfalls, mountains, lakes, and cool weather.

Got together with the Pips for a bridal shower.
Had a little party for Pat on his birthday June 14th.
Have been seeing all my sisters. (Looking for a picture of the four of us, I found these two which I like very much because they show our obvious enjoyment of each others’ company.)
So back to the novel of my life. Who are these girls and where are they going? Am I the director, the auteur, or just a character? Oh, funny, I see I’ve just changed the novel into a movie. It’s a start, anyway. I know the metaphorical movie/book is in there somewhere :-)