Sunday, May 29

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This is a typical Sunday for me, which means church, home by 11:15, lunch, read the paper, take a nap, do personal visits or study, take a nap. My son goes to his job and I take it easy. He is out of school now, and plans not to overexert himself this summer, and I can accept that. He is taking the SAT and ACT in the next two weeks, will have to read four or five books for AP English, is supposed to help his dad with projects, must work on his golf game, and will work about 30 hours a week. So why I can't I be happy with that? What is it about my generation that thinks children have to be so busy all the time? That will come.

I wrote a novel and sent it to two Christian clearinghouses. I would like to hope something will come of it--I gave them enough money. My desire to write fiction is keen, and probably the thing I would like to do more than anything, but it's not practical to pin one's dreams on it. I have five or six viable ideas. The Ph.D. work looms up before me and threatens to control me; I don't realistically know how difficult and time-consuming this will be. It's a journey with a sketchy road map.

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