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I'm back cooking . . . I don't know how sad I am about it. What I do know is between work, toddler, hubby, house and mental yet loveable family, my writing has once again dropped to the bottom of the must-do list. Sometimes I feel like I'm never going to make something of myself. I feel like I'm going to be cooking meals for other people that I can't afford to eat myself for the rest of my life Just having a low moment. Blah.

A long, lost friend and Jack Daniels. Days of fun and catching up. Now I'm behind. I can't seem to catch up. I can't seem to write anything. :/

I've carved up my novel.
30,000 lovingly crafted words in the bin. It had to be done.
SIGH.
Massive re-write time