Idling along on a Sunday morning . . .

. . . .trying to decide what to do.

Not that I lack options or projects. With a 100 year old house, projects I got. Same thing with the businesses. Plus the kids and grandkids.

But it's Sunday morning, and not being the church-going kind of man, that leaves a small amount of uncommitted time. Once upon a time, I'd meet running buddies for a long run, but then I moved. So I reverted to my 'lone wolf' style of running, doing things on my own and, for the most part, enjoying it.

I'll probably tackle a longer run later this morning, head up to the North Asotin Creek trail and play, but that will wait.

I could write a bit (like I'm doing now but only briefly) as a problem I had with the novel fixed itself about the time my sweetie aspirated in the middle of the night. Aspiration. Exactly what I needed. She apologized for waking me; I should apologize for not being more sympathetic at 3AM, but that's what happens to writers. The brain is looking for a connection or solution so it skips the empathy stage and goes to "Aha"!

Yeah, I put the exclamation point in the wrong place. In England or Australia, it would be fine.

I also have a nice start to an article on Jack Welch. Not the GE CEO, but the guy who wrote "When Running Was Young and So Were We". Finally got a handle on it. 400 words so far, figuring it'll hit 2k - Jackdog Welch is an interesting dude. I'll work on that later today, I think.

I checked out my usual Sunday morning book blogs, over at Ace of Spades HQ (not for the faint of heart or persons more liberal but the book blog on Sundays is excellent), and at the KillZoneAuthors blog with the inestimable James Scott Bell.

Now, breakfast.

For those of you who are the church-going type, happy worshiping. For those who worship on the trails, happy running.