Most Tuesdays, I meet with a couple of writer friends for lunch; sometimes we actually write, but mostly we talk
about writing–the craft or the psychosis that goes with it–as we sip coffee (or tea in my case) and try to avoid buying pumpkin whoopie pies.

Usually, I take Santiago Canyon home. It’s the closes we get to “countryside” here in Orange County, and I like the freedom of the winding through the hill country, wishing I could live in one of the ranch properties that line the road. There are a quarto of sorrel horses that I’d really like to get to know.

Today, the sky was a perfect shade of blue, like it was poured right out of the “sky blue” bottle. Clumps of white clouds floated overhead, and their shadows crawled like spiders across the sere brown hills. Okay, I’m probably trying too hard…

…but at least I’m trying.