A Leonard Cohen Morning

On mornings like this, when the drizzle hangs in the air like gauze, I'm reminded of one of my favorite films, "McCabe and Mrs. Miller." The soundtrack is a repetitive hum of Leonard Cohen at his somber best and it captures the dreariness of the Pacific Northwest in late autumn/early winter perfectly. Today is one of those days.

Last night I had my final class with Kathleen Alcala, "Historical Fiction" or titled something along those lines. It was a great class; though I think the best part (as I often find with writing courses) was the chance to share writing with others. It's wonderful to see what others are working on and make connections with those whose styles are in the same vein as your own. Two other writers--amazing at their crafts--and I have made a pact to continue meeting and discussing our current projects. We mean it, totally and for sure this time.

I caught some flack over the personal disclosure of yesterday's entry but I have to say that the animal karma is out in force. A coworker's husband shot a deer while hunting this last weekend and while preparing to gut it, he missed and stabbed himself in his knee bone. I've decided that I'm not even going to comb my dog until this curse passes.