Why things have been quiet here

I just returned from a great vacation that explored the northeast of North America. My wife and I flew to Montreal to meet my sister and sister-in-law for a three-week trip. We spent three days sightseeing in Montreal and then boarded a sanely-sized ship to cruise the Saint Lawrence River around Nova Scotia and on to Boston. We stopped daily at Canadian and then American towns, with plenty of time to go ashore to explore and spend money. I used to live in Boston, so our four days there were nostalgic. We even took a day trip to Concord, my favorite New England town. Next, on to New York City for more sightseeing and a week with the grandkids. Just arrived home and tuckered out.

Did I get some writing done? I did. But not nearly as much as I thought I would. The ship moved at night from one interesting location to another, so down time on the cruse was limited. On occasion, I returned to the ship and let the women shop. When alone, I wrote while sipping whiskey in the Crow's Nest bar. Pretty cool environs.

Now I’m home and eager to write on a daily basis. That is, after I unpack, get the house winterized, go to a couple of my grandson’s soccer games, and pay a few bills. How in the world did I find time when I worked steady?

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