Julia Park Tracey

…Wow, I hadn’t realized how far behind I would be by missing an entire week of work. From Sunday to Sunday I was home sick and came back to 93 e-mail messages on one account, 85 on the other. Plus snail mail, memos, inbox, yikes! Crazy days, but I’m getting back into it. Although it was blissful not to have to drive to work every day, I was too sick to make use of my home time. Instead, though, I did have many clever thoughts (along with some psycho-lurid dreams, courtesy of the flu, eek!). And among those thoughts is the necessity to get a new computer, plus a brilliant…

…At least, I hope so. Being ill is never much fun. Especially when one’s workmates can’t live without one. One drags oneself to the computer (damn and blast the e-mail!) and thinks with a few keystrokes the duty will be done. But no, there is more to say and do, and one finds oneself chained to the computer at home, as if in one’s very office! And one hacks and snuffles one’s way through the day, unable to take one’s medicine which would put one blissfully to sleep or at least stop the postnasal drip, because one must needs get on with helping the poor folk in the office. One…

…Just FYI, I’m home with a nasty cold and will not likely post for a few days. Yuck. 🙁

…I am way too young for this, and yet, here it is: my eldest, who fled the nest last August for her own cottage in the hills and a new life attending college, has returned. This is my eldest girl, the product of my wicked youth, the one about whom people always say, “You’re too young to have an 18-year-old.” Well, yes, but nevertheless, I do. I always laughed about the empty-nesters whose adult children had returned, but I never thought it would happen to me. A few days before Christmas, she was in a car accident, from which she escaped virtually unscathed. This was every parent’s nightmare, and it…

…is never done. Want to be a writer? First, find something to write about. Then write it. Get published. Get famous. Voila! Oops. I forgot the part about getting rich. I recently went to see a financial consultant, a local guy who was pleasant to chat with and very easy on the eyes. It was kind of funny because I am the word gal, or word nerd, as I sometimes call it, and he was the numbers guy. And I could not get the numbers straight, no matter what. The idea is that I get some money (I’m selling my old house — yeah, to live off the proceeds) and…