Treading Figurative Water

September 28, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

Today, I set myself a goal of working nine to five (still on fumes of Dolly Parton Day on September 25th) this time, focused on decluttering. The Too Much Stuff is strong. This is going to be another one of those life circumstances posts, so Gentle Readers, here is a kitty picture and we will connect again later.

Okay. Yeah. This was another one of Those Days. Most of them are, truth be told. I do not recommend complex grief, with financial stress, decluttering, and all that comes with all of the above. The way I’m doing things right now is nine AM to five PM are work hours. If that is not bank/post office/outside of house, then it is getting stuff the HECK out of my apartment. I am done with it. Over. Finito. There is very little sentiment attached to Things at this moment. I am looking into estate liquidators to take care of storage units because I hit a wall of DONE. Not in danger, just done. I can’t do this all by myself, and that seems to have been the option. It’s too much for one person, and I am only one visually impaired, grieving, fed-up person with limited resources and those need to go toward building the life I will have going forward.

The reason I am blogging the way I am is not for pity or attention, but the fact that it’s the way I best process what is going on in my head. I need to focus on finding a day job to take care of Storm and myself, so that I can give my evenings and weekends to writing fiction and creating content. Those things are my passion and my joy, and I need both of those things. Bank is looking into the online fraud issues, which may or may not resolve. I don’t want to talk too much about that here, but it’s a whole other adventure. Real Life Romance Hero or Housemate would have handled it were they here, but if they were here, I would not have been dealing with this. Funny how that works.

What I am going for in posts like these is honesty. As a writer, tapping into emotional truth is important, especially because the books I write are all about emotion and relationship. If I can turn this crud into art, I will consider that a win. I am working on standup bits based on the experience of grief, especially grief upon grief upon grief, because if I can laugh about it, I can live with it. Case in point, today. I am looking through available jobs that I am qualified to do (surprisingly, being a family caregiver and freelance writer/editor do have marketable skills, though the whole CV thing still confuses and at times terrifies me) while resting my foot that most likely has plantar fasciitis, a thing I can get checked as soon as the new insurance kicks in at the start of October. What is the first job that comes up? Dog walker. Right now, I will be happy with just ‘walker.’ Getting paid to walk dogs would be amazing, once that becomes possible. I do live near a park.

Today, I got quite a bit done. I would love to sell every single thing I am jettisoning from the house, but I am gun shy after the whole FB Marketplace fiasco, and I am tired. Just tired. I want the energy I have to go to things related to moving forward. From nine to five, that means taking care of whatever business the day might hold. After that, it is for creating and filling my well. Weekends are the same. Today’s blog entry is mostly because A) I still had time left in the workday and B) I want to take away some of the stigma around talking about grief and its accoutrements. About being angry at RLRH and Housemate for leaving me to take care of all of this without them. About how angry I am that my favorite season is here, and it’s not better than it was last year, when RLRH was sick. It’s worse. I’m alone. I don’t want to have to go through a whole other year before I can think about taking pleasure in my favorite season. About the low energy meals – peanut butter toast; beef brats and chunks of cheese, for when my body needs nutrition and my brain is just done. About going into my second consecutive holiday season from hell, a milestone birthday I would rather skip. About the burning need to create that hasn’t diminished, and in fact is getting brighter. Even when the world of publishing is a completely different animal than it was when I first set out on that path.

So that’s it for today. Possibly this week, though I am committing only to blogging right now, no specific schedule. Future topics will be less dark, I promise. Life does come with good surprises as well as catastrophic ones. New releases are on the horizon. I will talk about things other than grief and mental health, but that is where I am today. Today, that is what I have to give. Tomorrow will be something else, because, apparently, I am indestructible.

Embracing Challenges: Lessons from Improv and Life

August 22, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

Today, I went to improv class. I was the first one there, before even the director. I had missed the first two classes of the session. When the director asked me how I was doing, I told him. He listened. When we did our red/yellow/green thing before beginning the actual class, which is when we let our fellow actors know if there is anything off-limits, be it physical work or subject matter, etc, I answered honestly. I should have been wearing my knee brace, but wasn’t, and I put a hard “no” on jokes about death, because I have had two significant losses in recent months. Since there were some new to me people, I also mentioned that I am visually impaired, and if my scene partner does something subtle with their expressions, I may not catch it. Other people had their own things to keep in mind, and we were able to proceed, knowing who can do what.

As suspected, improv class was exactly what I needed, and I told the director after class. The route there and back is very walkable with today’s weather, moderate UV exposure and temperature still August-y but bearable. When I got back home, I fell sound asleep. Storm head bonked me and wanted cuddles. I almost tapped this out on my FB page while I flopped with Storm in front of the fan, but I had to get up and feed her anyway, so to the keyboard I came.

I cannot thank everyone enough for the help with the Go Fund Me. We are over sixty percent of the way to our goal. Storm and I appreciate every single donation and share, and all of the prayers and good wishes. Before improv, I worked on something that always works for me, which is making lists. Nothing happens on the weekend, so this coming week, I get to coordinate with property management about the apartment. NY state property laws look like they may indeed be working in my favor, but don’t quote me yet. There is a displaced homemaker’s resource here in Albany, which I will be investigating, and there are a million things to do about transportation, liquidating one storage unit, taking over another, and, once I get the apartment stuff confirmed, beginning the roommate search.

There is yarn. Oh so much yarn. Stationery to de-stash as well, and then content to create with what I am keeping. I am learning many new things about all of the above, and beyond. Melva and I are now on the search for stock images for the Queen of Hearts cover artist. Finding couples where both man and woman are blond/e is harder than it looks, but we will find something and the artist will do something and we will love it. I am ever closer to launching A Heart Most Errant. That means Melva and I will need to figure out the next contemporary romance we want to write, and I need to get cracking on my second medieval, A Heart Most Ardent, which has both leads widowed when the book begins…which I had known long before Real Life Romance Hero passed.

The apartment looks very much in flux. I need to get the yarn all in one place, listings for the yarn and yarn accessories in one place. Rethink the current FB marketplace listings, because they are not hitting their targets as of yet. Maybe offering shipping is the magic key. There are donations to make, of clothing, books, other things. I am learning to ask for help, learning to say that I am learning new things. Tonight, because night is nearly here, is for dinner and Sims and maybe reading, because I haven’t read anything (other than forms and legal things and websites about forms and legal things) since Housemate passed. That has to change. Maybe just a few pages. That’s a good start.

So. How do we wind this all up? I am not sure about that, and that feels appropriate, so I will let that be that. How are you doing?

Secondary Losses

August 15, 2026August 15, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

Latest entry in the trauma conga line that is my life these days. Today is Real Life Romance Hero’s first birthday since he passed. Tomorrow will be eight months since he passed. The day after that, we need to do court stuff to start Housemate’s estate. We, meaning I, as Housemate’s family live in TN, have to clear out the storage units, and I am not sure about the apartment. It’s a lot.

I am actually okay-ish today. I am wearing RLRH’s favorite shirt, and spent the day making TikToks while sorting through Housemate’s stuff, and drinking tea. If I don’t hear from Housemate’s family by five today, I will consider myself off the clock as it were and turn to taking care of me. Maybe a walk and grab myself a treat to celebrate that I got to spend the rest of RLRH’s life with him.

Tomorrow is another day. Thank you, Scarlett O’Hara. As always, writing helps me through the shark infested dumpster fire that is right now. Last night, I gave myself permission to go all out, no holding back, verbal vomit from the backside. Gentle readers, this is your chance to slip out and come back for a gentler post. There will be some. I don’t know when, but there will be some.

TRIGGER WARNING: grief, anxiety, caregiving, housing insecurity.

Here are some of the things we don’t think about when grief curb stomps us for the third time in eight months:

My best friend died…after my best friend died. This friend was also my roommate, also the lease holder, also the one who said not to worry in the first year after losing the live of my life; she’d take care of me. Instead, I took care of her. As in bottle feeding her meal replacement shakes and changing her diapers, sleeping in the same bed so I would never be far when she needed me. Now she’s gone. Her family and I started the paperwork to settle her small estate. I think my soul left my body when I asked about where on the list of debts I should put my friend’s rent, and the clerk said, “She isn’t paying rent now, is she?” I will have to talk to management about that. The floor dropped. I wasn’t wearing my leg brace because things are wait wait wait GO. I could have used the extra support.

With every entry I made, I felt another part of my life and identity ripped away. The phone plan. Internet at home instead of public WiFi. Amazon, and with it Prime Video and Kindle Unlimited. Netflix. The storage units. I felt that devastation again because I can’t be in more than one place at one time. They are a jumble. Most of these things will need too be sold (best case) or donated, or junked (worst case.) My completed journals. Furniture I have loved all my life, hoping for a permanent place in a someday-house. Art supplies. Rheuben’s things. Stuffed animals we both loved. My special favorite author books. Research books. Mementos of a life I would give anything to have back. The me who lived that life and wanted to keep on living it. Gonegonegonegonegone.

The last time I had to be separated from an animal I need for emotional support, I nearly didn’t make it. I am going to need an ESA letter for Storm. I know a trusted friend stands ready to foster if need be, but to take her from me as well? Please don’t. That is all I can say right now. I don’t want to lose the happy home my family and I shared after the then-worst year of our lives. We had each other. We had a pact. We would stay together, and that included Storm. Now it’s her and me and no car, little certainty. I can’t be everywhere. I can’t carry everything. I am writing this at my lowest, because writing is my happy place. It’s getting Book of Job-ish around here. I remember being in Linda’s room, on her last day, noticing my fingers on both hands were covered in the blisters of dyshidrotic eczema. I already have the atopic kind. If you don’t know what those look like, don’t do an image search. My brain is fhtyyt (cat had paw on tablet screen, but she put it better than I can.) I wish I had a positive way to wrap this all together, but I don’t. I have honesty and bewilderment and pain. I want to be the one taken care of, the one who doesn’t have to do anything but rest. That would be the best thing.

For those so inclined, a kind friend set up a Go Fund Me, to help ease the transition:

Fundraiser by Debbie Jantzen : Support Anna After Two Heartbreaking Losses

So We’re Doing This Now

August 11, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

Hey, all. :deep breath: Okay. This is going to be a heavier post, so if my gentle readers want to catch me on a day with more kitty pics and book recs, that’s fine. The rest of you, here we go:

Those who have been here for a while know that this has been A Year for me already, with Rheuben passing right before Christmas. Thankfully, I had our awesome Housemate, Linda Hart, to walk this road with me. Those who have read Storm’s latest post, already knew Linda had fallen (literally and figuratively) with a sudden illness that was, unfortunately, terminal. She passed last week, peacefully. It was my privilege to care for her when she was unable to care for herself, as she has cared for me in my grief. To say I am in shock is an understatement. Her family is here from out of state, and we are figuring out the way forward together. I don’t know exactly what the future holds. We are taking that step by step. My preference would be to stay in this apartment with a roommate, though relocating is also on the table. One day at a time over here.

A dear friend of mine, for whom I have done freelance editing work, has set up a GoFundMe. For those able to donate, that would be lovely, and please do consider sharing. You can find that here:

Fundraiser by Debbie Jantzen : Support Anna After Two Heartbreaking Losses

Debbie is a sweetheart, as well as a wonderful and imaginative writer, and I look forward to working with her again. Once I get practicalities sorted out and my head on straight, I will be looking for remote work, including but not limited to more freelance editing, which I really and truly love, as well as content creation and of course writing fiction. Melva Michaelian and I put the finishing touches on the third installment in the Love By the Book series, Queen of Hearts, which will be out oh so soon. We need to make sure the cover art captures the spirit of Rob and Heather’s romance. This one is a friends to lovers story, with a Christmas finale that we absolutely love.

If you want to read the series in order, the first two are:

All Love by the Book stories are involved in the world of romance writing, reading and publishing, and Melva and I are gearing up to start what will be Love by the Book number four. I am also so, so, so excited to present my first indie historical romance novel, A Heart Most Errant, the first in the Ravenwood Saga, aka my first dive into a planned historical series. This one is medieval, set right after the plague wiped out half of Europe over a twenty-year period. I am sitting on the cover reveal until closer to release, but as soon as I put out the domestic fires, I have started discovery drafting the second book, which will be A Heart Most Ardent. Interestingly enough, both leads in that book are widowed, from marriages that were not awful. There is also a long, long, long overdue standalone Georgian historical in the works. Writing truly is my happy place, and when the world is chaos, I need all the happy I can get. That does include posting.

Storm is the best nurse/therapist ever, and my friends, near and far, are wonderful. Our church is amazing, as is my therapist. Over the next few weeks, I will be helping Linda’s family sort out what needs sorting, including dispatching two storage units, and figuring out what happens with the apartment. Getting an ESA letter for Storm. My content will be reflecting that, as well as the usual topics. Sometimes, I am ok. Other times, it’s rough. Lots of lists. Lots of journaling. Two big losses in under eight months is A Lot. Adding in the stuff I was already talking to my therapist about, and dial that stuff upward.

Let’s wind this up for now. I am up and only sometimes crying. Sometimes cussing. Sometimes praying, frequently writing. Going through difficult stuff, yes, but still here.

How about you?

Four Months

April 16, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

Today marks four months since Real Life Romance Hero passed. This is not going to be one of those upbeat posts, so I totally understand if you would prefer to catch the next one. This is an Anna post, not a Storm post, because she is a kitty, and I am feeling especially human today.

Grief is strange. One day, you’re dealing, then riding the ceiling fan of anxiety because tax times and you were not the one who did that, but then again, you were not the one who did a lot of things. The weight of partnership feels extra heavy when it isn’t there.

I am fine. Having a lot of thoughts, and this is where they want to go, so here they are. Today, Housemate and I got laundry down to the car before we hit a mutual NOPE and went to lunch and errands instead. Laundry can be tomorrow. Adulting things are depending on hearing stuff from professionals, but our apartment is nice and safe.

Throughout the day, I was keenly aware of what time it was, and what was happening at that time on that day, the one when RLRH died. There was a quiet voice in my head, in one of those compassionately impartial tv presenter tones: this is the time we went into the conference room. This is when the Catholic priest came for RLRH’s sacrament. This is when the non-denominational chaplain came to be there for me. This is when I told the team I wanted to touch him as long as possible, look at him as long as possible, because this would be the last time. Somebody kept pointing out the bereavement tray, which was bags of snacks, and all I could think of was “my husband is dying; why would I want potato chips?” I did hold his hand until the end, and I remember the gap between the actual death and the official time of death. We had the opportunity to stay in the room for up to four hours, but I wanted to be with him, not it (the body.)

When we walked home that night, it was dark. Today, at that time, it was light, and temperature was in the seventies, if not eighties. There was sweat. The contrast is/was big. RLRH loved spring. I am more of a fall/winter girl. Housemate and I have been discussing when to turn on Koolio, our air conditioner, now adorned with a handlebar moustache sticker. I had joked about putting googly eyes on Koolio, to which RLRH was opposed. I told him he’d said nothing about handlebar moustaches. I could put the googly eyes on now, but I don’t think I will.

So, where does this go from here? I don’t know. I wanted to write about this, and so, I did. Evening is here now, so time for a scented bath, a good book, and then kitty belly rubs. New day tomorrow, bringing laundry and writing. The day after that, improv class. Also getting back to social media. I am now on Tik Tok as anna_log_writes, and would love to connect.

How was your day?

In Bed, Watching Waterloo Road With My Cat

February 17, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

My first Valentine’s Day as a widow sucked exactly as much as I expected it to, but I survived it. Mostly, that was by watching Waterloo Road in bed with Storm, on YouTube. There are, to the best of my knowledge, seventeen seasons of the show, with two more contracted. Think Degrassi, but in the North of England. Storm actually has started coming to get me and leading me to the laptop, where we watch, and looking first at the screen and then at me. This is her “my show is on” signal. I am to assume the cuddle position and best not think of getting up before a full episode has passed.

My plan for the day was to not leave the house, get food delivered, and be a puddle of energy, to use one of Real-Life Romance Hero’s favorite phrases. In that, the day was successful. Not going to lie, it was hard. When the whole day is about romantic love, and mine has passed, yeah, that’s not a fun time. Getting under the fuzzy blanket on top of the weighted blanket, curling up with a soft cat, and watching a British comprehensive school’s students and staff go through a wide assortment of life experiences. Safe to say I have found my newest comfort show.

Even with the real-life complications, I am still a romance author, with a new book out, at that. Which reminds me, if you’ve read and liked Drama King, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads. Speaking of Amazon, we are as of this writing #284 in fake dating (under “books”) — we have cracked the top 300. If that is not actually a thing, let me have this. I have had a sneak peek at Melva’s upcoming solo title cover (it is gorgeous) and we are working on the Chasing Prince Charming reissue, to have it out this spring. After that, A Heart Most Errant, which will be the first of my first ever planned historical series. Reviews can be as short as “I liked it,” or “good story” or “Clawed is an awesome cat and should be in every book.”

Writing and publishing is actually a super good thing to keep me occupied. I met with a writer friend in person on Monday, and made plans for virtual and in-person writing sprints in the near future. They invited me to an in-person group that does timed writings, and we discussed going together to a nearby drop-in improv night. I am very much looking forward to the next round of improv class.

Both friend and I had challenging years just past, and both want to socialize more and make writing a priority. This week, I am also trying something else I haven’t done in a long time. I did a little (very little) standup in college, and I loved it. Therapy Gal thinks I can definitely get a five-minute set from recent experiences, so I am now working on my first set in decades. Since I live in a city, there are open mic nights, so here is a new adventure.

Yesterday was the two-month mark exactly. I am glad I spent it chatting with friends, doing writer things. Storm is aware she owes blogs. She has been pretty busy sitting on me, fulfilling her purr-pose as a fuzzy tricolored nurse.

That’s about it for now. Tonight is trash night, and, since we are decluttering, we have a bunch. After I put the trash out, I will grab some leftovers and return, with Storm, to Waterloo Road, under the weighted blanket.

This is How You Walk On

January 15, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

February is going to be different this year. February means Valentine’s Day, which, as a romance author and reader, is kind of a big thing. This year, though, I am also a recent widow, (still getting used to saying that) so that gives the day a whole new light. I figure I will take it as it comes, let family and friends love on me, and there is always the option of hot tea, weighted blanket, journal and comfort read.

This thought came to me while I was at the library, donating the first round of books from RLRH’s shelves. It came as one of those weird grief things: starts out mildly surreal, but I can do this, then ‘oh crap, I’m actually doing this.’ After that, there is the whole ‘what am I doing, this is their stuff’ thing and then ‘this is what they wanted’ thing and ‘somebody is going to be super happy to find these books at the library sale,’ even if that is a reseller.

Housemate and I also went through a couple of the boxes RLRH had in storage, things he had not asked after in years, but also things he wanted to keep. Again, whole range of emotions there, and once we got home, I super crashed, with Storm paying very close attention. Housemate suggested some form of visual confirmation that we had sorted through the boxes we did. Excellent suggestion. I am all out of neon labels, but that is easily fixed. Any excuse to visit a stationery related store is a good one.

Hardware stores are more neutral. Tomorrow is, after laundry, hardware store time, for mattress bags and a decent lighting device for the storage unit. That, as well, is moving forward. Writing-wise, indie publishing journey progresses, waiting only on one thing each for Drama King and A Heart Most Errant to make their final preparations for going live. I am taking part in a program called “The Write Stuff,” through Romance Writers of America. That means a small critique group within my genre (historical this time) and monthly meetings online to learn craft and commune with others of my kind. On that front, we tap into the computer side of things.

RLRH left electronics, which need various degrees of attention. I also have a couple of devices that need attention, whether it’s ‘this thing is toast’ or ‘easily fixable’ or some other diagnosis. Wipe, factory reset, sell, donate, recycle. Now, more than ever, keeping track of what I do on what day becomes important, not only because the regular course of things has been completely obliterated, but because I am charting brand new territory. Some of that is returning to places I haven’t been in a while. Taking pictures, for one. The earrings are a Halloween purchase, but are among my favorites for everyday wear. The small perfume bottle is a gift from a friend, and the large one is RLRH’s favorite cologne, which I have appropriated. Vanilla, tobacco, and tonka bean confirm that scent does indeed hold memories.

That is a good enough place to wrap for today. I am a writer. Writers write. Thanks for reading.

Typing With Wet Paws: Hello, January Edition

January 10, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws.

this is probably a Greatest Hits picture, but I have been busy

Things are taking on a new rhythm around here. I am Mama Anna’s number one emotional support since Papa had to go to Rainbow Bridge early. Big Sister Skye and Big Brother Ginger are surely giving him lots of purrs and headbonks. His side of the bed is now my side of the bed, and I am absolutely on top of all incoming mail. Literally. I like sitting on stuff.

Some of that stuff is stuff Papa ordered before, well, you know. These are so far surprises for Mama Anna and Aunt Linda, because he didn’t talk to either one of them about any incoming packages. No, they are not holiday gifts. The first one to arrive was an incense burner. Nobody can figure out why he ordered that because asthma. Mama Anna is not sure if incense and cats are a good mix. She has wax melts anyway.

Another thing that came was a sweater. At first, Mama Anna thought that a big, chunky sweater would be like a nice present from Papa, but then she had Aunt Linda check the fiber content. Aunt Linda knows basically everything about fibers. As suspected, it was a wool blend. Mama Anna is allergic to wool. Back in the package it goes, so it can keep somebody else warm.

The third thing I want to mention today is something Mama Anna found that was a secret, and is very much a gift from Papa. It is no secret around here how much Mama Anna loves journaling. Papa had made some noises about asking her to help him set up a journal like hers, but we all thought that did not happen…until Mama Anna found a small black fabric book. Hm. No words on the cover, nothing to tell her what it was, so she looked inside. Guess what? Papa had started a commonplace book, which is a type of journal where humans can keep lists of stuff they think is interesting, bits of ephemera and stuff.

Papa only wrote on a few pages, and his first list was creative ways to express irritation. Mama Anna says I am not allowed to post that kind of language, but she says it was like hearing him, and she laughed. She will pick up the book from where he left off and put in some pictures and memories, because they have the same sense of humor and had a lot of fun together. I suggest some pictures of Papa and me, because we love each other a lot. I was technically not allowed on his desk, but we all know how rules like that play out:

Not every day is easy around here, but finding things like I talked about today make things more…well, Papa-y. Mama Anna and I are getting plenty of cuddles, and I help her watch stuff on her glowy boxes, preferably while she gives me belly rubs. Belly rubs benefit both of us.

Anyway, that’s pretty much it around here this week. Okay, there was the time Mama Anna caught me trying to climb the dresser drawers to get to the drawer where my treats are. She was less than impressed by that, but if I can get my own treats, that’s one thing off her plate, and on mine (literally.)

So This is 2026

January 6, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

Trigger warning: Loss of loved one.

Two days before my husband died, New York got an absolutely beautiful snowfall. I’m talking what I would show an alien who asked me what a “winter wonderland” looked like. Though we are in the capitol region, a bit away from the City, we had the snow here as well. I remember watching the snow fall outside the picture window in the SICU. That’s Surgical Intensive Care Unit, though Real Life Romance Hero would have said “it’s SICU, because if you there, you sick.”

The surgical part has to do with repairing a perforated colon, though the presenting complaint was a fall down the stairs, broken ribs, broken vertebrae. RLRH had a few conditions going on, and they caught up with him. I told him about the snow day, though he was sedated. He would have appreciated looking at the local snow through our bedroom windows at home and the countless reels and images I have been watching on social media ever since. There is a sense of wonder in a snow day for me, and this one, this one was different.

Not that I knew what would happen two days later, because I didn’t, though that was the day when the inkling first squirmed to life. Maybe the snow helped cushion things in some way. I don’t know. It’s winter. We live in New York. There will be snow. RLRH started life as a California boy. His first experience with snow remains vivid. “Honey, the rain feels weird.” That was before he learned of the big coat. I am keeping his favorite big coat.

When it did happen, I held his hand until it was over. Housemate was there, and the hospital chaplain. One of the nurses brought in what they called a bereavement tray, which Housemate describes as a selection of sugared sodas and some potato chips under a plastic cover. We did not partake of it, though I appreciate the thought. We are within walking distance of the hospital, so home wasn’t far. It was, however, different.

I am…okay. Finding my way in the new normal. Writing helps, so the current plan is Typing With Wet Nails on Tuesday and Typing With Wet Paws on Fridays. Topics will not be this heavy every time, I promise. Melva and I are on track to put out Drama King in the very near future, followed in (hopefully) short order, A Heart Most Errant. Melva and I are both working on stories for a Christmas anthology, and I am back in Her Last First Kiss. I am trying some new things with my planning and journaling this year, with ideas for videos. Storm is, of course, on duty. Kitty cuddles are excellent purr-apy.

Coming back to the snowfall feels right, so let’s do that. The first place my brain goes when I reach for another snowy memory is many years in the past, when an outing with another couple turned out to be an MLM meeting. I refused to return after a break, and RLRH was not about to leave me on my own. So, despite my wearing high heeled pumps, we wandered for the next two hours through a strange New England town in the dark and the snow, and it was indeed a winter wonderland. The memory is still strong of that night. We did meet up with the other couple, who were our ride, at the end of the evening, and we did not join the MLM.

The mix of snow and romance stuck, though, and I believe it always will. It sparked one of my earliest forays into romantic fiction, and there is an echo of it in the solo story I am providing to the Christmas collection. This story is contemporary, but I do like the idea of a historical Christmas story, so maybe next collection. I can’t leave this post without mentioning the time we went on a wintry horse and carriage ride, and the best part was when the horse, ah, un-ate, during the ride. Horse poop is funny, full stop.

So, that’s it for the first blog of 2026. I hope your holiday were good ones, and if holidays do not apply, I hope you had a good December. Let’s see what the new year has to offer.