Now, I'm simply showing off

Well, well, well. What have we here???

It's me again!

I've written approximately 5000 words a day, since December 14, 2025 on PT, my women's fiction. I'm at 32,719 words as of this moment. 

I always used to bitch about doing research because I tied that term into the unholy fucking shit I had to do in high school. And my ADHD brain would quit somewhere about a third of the way into it and not come back.

But Google searches relating to my story and all the factoids I can consume?

Gimme

Searches for today:

Tyrian purple--Tyrian purple is a legendary, costly reddish-purple dye from ancient Phoenicia, made from the mucus of Murex sea snails. MUCUS...from sea snails! 😮

Regal Heritage Ring--GORGEOUS

Apollo gem

Laurel wreath meaning

Old Greek precious metals

I'm only halfway finished for the day, but that gives you a pretty good idea. 💖

New year. Same Chaos Cow.

2026

I'm not Cher. I'll not be reinventing myself. I like myself. But improving myself? We shall see. 

Had an office supply Christmas! 🥳

This includes:

shredder

36 gel pens

MORE post-it notes

little white cat holder for said post-it notes

a comb binding machine 

and a cool rack for my books when I venture to events

Still same body. Same attitude. Same neurodivergent self.

The new year looks to bring, hopefully, more time for self. A time to not only inhale, but exhale as well. When in pain, I will hold my breath, as if the mere fact I'm depriving myself of oxygen will help the pain. It doesn't. 

Going to try and breathe through this year and all its many facets. Easy to say on January 1, 2026. Harder to say on March 20, 2026. So, I guess, continuation? A recommitment to these goals? 

I was a control freak, for the longest time, when I raised my kids. Early twenties. Solo parent. Three kids. A year apart. I needed to feel as though I had some power over everything in my world.

I've mellowed a bit, thank God. But I still have those moments when my fists are clenched tight around something I should, perhaps, let go.

Writing?

OMG!!! 

I'm literally nearly 30,000 words in on a Women's Fiction piece I started like three weeks ago. It's smooth like buttah.  Edit "Out of the Shadows". And I would speculate where I go from there, but honestly? I didn't see this women's fiction piece at all until I couldn't stop thinking about it.

We lets the brain do what the brain does. Otherwise? Regret. Lots of it.

That's me. The first day of 2026. Already have a list for tomorrow. Because...of course I do. 😁