Greetings from my very own writing desk thanks to IKEA, and to Johnny the handsome carpenter. It is a simple, birch-colored desk which I strategically faced away from our bed towards the window. Tonight I sit happily typing, burning candles, and singing along to Caedmon's Call's new CD which I will be reviewing for Relevant magazine's web site. This is Caedmon's best CD by far, hands down. It is freaking phenomenal.
Within my view I see an ink night sky, my black dictionary, my brother Jody's brilliant painting hanging on our wall, my Mom's rocking chair with blue and white-flowered cushions. I see Sandra McCracken's new CD (Best Laid Plans) placed on top of my Van Gogh "Almond Branch" journal. I see a struggling flame dying in my Autumn Lodge tealight which smells largely of pipe tabacco - one of my favorite smells. I see Diet peach Snapple over ice. I see a pretty glass rendition of Klimt's "The Kiss" hanging above our window - a wedding gift from my cool aunt Denise. I see our beautiful wooden kneeler which my Mom kindly bestowed to us. I see a Cross comprised of cobalt blue pebbles. I see a future of freelance and fiction writing alongside my drumming husband. I see not by evidence but by blind ole faith. I hope and pray till I may leave the dusty bookstore and this desk be my place of work and words.