Catfish are jumpin' and the river is high (or something like that) ... .
Well.
School is out and that means one thing: I have time to write and read now; I have time to talk to other people about writing and reading; I have time to plompf my butt down on a worn leather chair at my fave bookstore and turn pages in a beloved dreamlike trance. In short: I am free of grading and lesson planning and 5:30 alarms. Free of mothering 110 eighth graders (which is mostly great, but, hey, a gal needs a break).
Free to blog. Which makes me happy.
