Coffee in the morning...

I get up and make a pot of coffee every morning. It's a ritual and it starts my day, every day.  I should be writing more, but I am uninspired, just tired mostly.  I need to recharge my batteries, but that is not going to happen this weekend.  It's gonna be another busy one.

On Friday, I will be baking cookies for the Art Fair.  If you are reading this, I want you to try to come out to McGroarty Arts Center in Tujunga this Saturday.  The event starts at 10 a.m and runs until 4 pm.  We have local artisans selling their wares and I have the world famous "Paint your own masterpiece" cookie booth. You can decorate a cookie- home baked by moi- edible art!  There is the fabulous art exhibit and stick around for Danielle Eubank's  Flicker and flame workshop.  She will show you how to capture a flame on canvas ( or paper, but you get the idea)  Roasted marshmallows will be featured!  This is a huge fundraiser for the Center, which like most non-profits these days can use all the love it can get.  The Center has been something I have devoted a lot of time and energy to, especially over the last few years.  If you have never been there, this is a great time to come up to the Center.

I have been reading a wonderful book, written by a co-worker Mary McCoy called "Dead to me"  It's a Young Adult book, sort of a mystery.  Very well written and I hope it's the first in a series.  I checked it out of the library, but will be buying my own copy, probably today, from the Library store.  I missed her book-signing event and will have to track her own to get my copy signed; although I think the ones in the store are pre-signed. I recommend the book.

I have been listening to a James Lee Burke novel "Pegasus Descending"  It is set in New Iberia Parish just before Katrina hit.  I like Dave Robicheaux and am enjoying the book, which has more philosophy than I remember.  Dave is much more introspective in this book. He talks about longing for the old days in New Orleans and how things changed after the advent of Crack.  I think about my father when Dave talks about New Orleans.   After my mother died, my father wanted to go and live there, but never quite got the plan together, then almost a year to the day that my mother died, Katrina hit.  I think he would have ultimately been disappointed in the New Orleans he found.  It was not the town he recalled from his wild youth. I am glad he didn't move there, as when his illness hit he would have been on the other side of the country from my sister and me.  I don't know how we would have gotten to him in time to take care of him if he had moved to the Big Easy.

I wonder if there is enough coffee to get me through today.  I can sleep in until seven a.m. tomorrow!  That thought cheers me considerably!