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.

Stuff

September 21, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

I don’t know if this is because today is the last day of summer. I don’t know if it’s because of Yom Kippur (I am not Jewish, but I respect the tradition) I don’t know if it’s because I need to seriously wrap up some of Housemate’s things, or whatever the case may be, but I have too much stuff. It’s five pm now, and that means I have permission to knock off from running in circles and smashing my head into the wall trying to be SuperAnna, clearing out Housemate’s stuff on my own, visually impaired, and undermedicated, with transportation issues. Add in my close call with some online selling fraud (shout out to Bank of America for having none of that, thank you very much) and I am spent. Pardon the pun.

Going into month two after Housemate’s death, and getting closer to year one after Real Life Romance Hero’s, one can imagine things get complicated. No matter what the reason was, when I got up this morning, my entire being went into Enough mode. I am over the clutter. I am, no disrespect intended, over cleaning up dead people’s messes. I want things sorted, literally and figuratively and I want to get on with my life. Writing is a huge part of that. Maybe the biggest. Right now, I am preheating the oven to find out if I have correctly interpreted the right way to bake Italian sausage patties, because I actually kind of like cooking for myself, and tonight, I feel like a strange combination of sausage from the latest grocery run, cheese from the plate my kind neighbor made me after the end of summer neighbor dinner a bunch of us had in their backyard on Saturday evening, and then we’ll see what else I want. Maybe stick the whole thing on toast and call it a night. I do have fresh-ish pasta and some Alfredo sauce, but that’s what tomorrow is for, possibly.

Right now, I am putting some sort of order into the writing area of my room. Still odd to say my room and not “our” room, but since I share it with Storm, maybe “our” is still appropriate. I have yet to entirely figure out the laundry situation, but the call of my favorite buffalo plaid sheets is strong, and it is a very pleasant stroll to the laundromat, with laundry not in a basket but in a rolling suitcase. I will probably acquire a cart at some point. I do have a birthday next month.

One of the things I am doing is getting my writing project notebooks together, one book per project, and making the bookshelf next to my desk Writing Central. Melva, my contemporary co-writer is currently out of the country for a very happy trip, and when she gets back, we are in the final stretches of bringing Queen of Hearts to all of you. Finding stock art with both leads blond/e is a lot more difficult than we expected, but we are not changing anybody. They look the way they look and that’s that. Once that book is out, time to launch A Heart Most Errant, (finally!) and then I am in the happy position of Next Books. We need to decide on our next contemporary romance. My next historical will of course be A Heart Most Ardent, and I am hard at work on Her Last First Kiss, meaning I will be inhabiting the medieval and Georgian ages at the same time. Melva’s current solo project, I will let her divulge, but I fell hard in love with that book while she wrote it in writing sprints in a group we both attended and am delighted that it will come to fruition in the coming year.

There is also the pure therapy of returning to a college love, standup comedy. Right now, I am keeping an eye out for open mics, working on my first set in decades (ouch) and honestly loving it. I am trying some stuff out on TikTok at @anna_log_writes. I fully embrace my belly flop era and carry over the lesson from improv class that we celebrate failure. I am not sure what else I want to put here, which again, is a lesson from improv. When I don’t know what to put here, I start with that and go for the next most obvious thing.

For me, at 6:36 PM on the last night of summer, that means I want dead people stuff gone. Yes, making money off it is ideal. At the same time, my peace of mind is priceless. I cannot afford the worry and emotional baggage, so I will be looking into offloading some of the liquidation. Estate sellers, take the stuff, take your cut, donate what doesn’t sell, cut me a check and we’re done. I need to focus on my life now. That will include remote work, preferably freelance writing or adjacent, but I am open to other things as well. A roommate will help feed my extrovert need for socialization and halve the bills, and make one heck of a more comfortable situation for me in which to create. I want clear floor, clean surfaces, and absolutely zero piles.

Furniture I’ve carted through moves, or more realistically waved at in storage and thought “someday,” I am now less attached to, and very happy to turn into cash or pass along to somebody who doesn’t have any. I am ready for space and peace and long autumn evenings with my cat and my stories. I want to make myself dinner, a meal that I want, wash my dishes right away, put them away and tuck in for an evening around the metaphorical fire. Maybe find an online tabletop roleplaying group. I’ve wanted to try that for a while. Now, I can.

First, though, I need to make space. Selling on FB Marketplace is an education. As is finding out that Housemate’s gift of HP Instant Ink shipments ran out exactly when I need to print prepaid mailing labels, so huzzah for the public library. Only not today, because Yom Kippur. That is a very appropriate day to reflect on things past and how I would like the future to go. There are surprises.

One of my newly met neighbors asked if I might like to turn Housemate’s old room into an office or studio. I like that idea, but I like the roommate idea more, and my current room is big enough to serve multiple purposes. I do need to bring Storm’s cat tree into our room, since she’s not that interested in hanging out in a room with no humans in it. She’d rather be with me. Maintenance Dude, who is my across the hall neighbor, suggested introducing Storm to his two Chihuahua mixes, through baby gates, in our respective apartments. As in them in their apartment, Storm in ours, maybe even in her adventure cave, gates up, so they can see and smell each other but not make contact. We will see.

For now, I have an Italian sausage patty to investigate. This will either be delicious or proof that while I was raised by Italians, we share no genetic material. Maybe I will try an Irish sausage next time.

Apparently, I am indestructible.

Time of the Season

August 31, 2026August 31, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

Welp, today is the last day of August. Tomorrow starts the first month completely without Housemate. I got through the first Real Life Romance Hero birthday without the man himself, and I am thankful it was spent with Housemate’s family, even though A) they didn’t know it was RLRH’s birthday, and B) we were in the frenzy of paperwork that comes with what happens after a loved one passes. I am still running in circles connecting Housemate’s Family with property management. We are trying to follow the law and want to give PM money. Can we do that, please?

Right now, I am in determination mode. I am fried. I need time to grieve, not only Housemate, but I was still working through RLRH’s loss, and then all of this got dumped in my lap. There are too many things to do for me to do them all on my own, as I am one grieving, anxious, depressed, visually impaired person with PTSD and CPTSD. I am also a superfirstborn, aka only child, so I am used to the “fine, I’ll do it myself” mindset. The next big day on the calendar is my birthday in October, which has a zero in it, ad to say that I did not expect to be spending that day alone is perhaps the biggest understatement in this post. Not even going to touch the more universal holidays, because I cannot deal with that right now.

Facebook Marketplace has been a complete bust. Three inquiries, three ghosts. Once I get my new bank card (physical copy) I will shift into online selling, largely in destashing groups on FB. I want storage unit two empty by October, and hopefully carry the first one for the winter and then deal with it in spring. I need to generate income. Right now, that has to be liquidating stuff, because there is So Much Stuff that getting rid of it is a full time job. There is furniture in them thar storage units. I haven’t even had a chance to go through RLRH’s stuff. I am overwhelmed and exhausted and excited about taking care of these practicalities because I want to write fiction. I need to write fiction. With digital and indie publishing, getting my stories out in the world is both easier and harder than I could have imagined only a few years ago. I would still love to publish traditionally again, especially with one of the big publishers. I am okay if that does not happen and I am okay if it does. I am a writer either way.

I am already looking forward to the next iteration of improv class. I made it to two out of the four sessions for this round, and learning that I was not the only person in class using improv to deal with grief was actually encouraging. I am delving into a personal curriculum (yes, it involves romance novels) and have a strong desire to pick the journals and notebooks that I am actively using right now, and putting the rest of them (that I am keeping) away for when it is their turn. This is not a hoard, it is more like a wine cellar, that comes with a risk of paper cuts.

Thanks much for reading this far. If you’re so inclined, the Go Fund Me is still open and seventy percent of the way to goal. Every single donation helps. If we meet goal within two weeks, I will be doing a cover reveal for A Heart Most Errant (spoiler: it’s gorgeous) on that page before it’s available anywhere else.

Seeing as how that was my whimsical way to round out a heavy emotional dump (and yes, I was holding back) that is also my signal to bring this entry to a close. Writing is still my best thing and favorite thing, so I will be writing a lot. Stay tuned.

Casualties

August 25, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

Well, we have a site down. MelvaandAnna.com has fallen through the cracks, and is no longer active. That’s fine. Melva and I are looking at this as a chance to start fresh, and in time to release Queen of Hearts, Heather and Rob’s story in the Love by the Book series. This is our friends to lovers story, with single mom Heather, Rob, the best friend who has been in love with her for as long as he can remember, a kid, a dog (full of other, smaller dogs) and maaaaybe glimpses of future protagonists for future books. Also holidays, as this book covers back to school, Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Phew. I absolutely do need a win right about now, and Melva and I love this story bunches, so that certainly counts.

Once I take care of a couple more things, I will get to launch my first independent historical romance, A Heart Most Errant. That’s a great carrot on the stick as I slog through the far less appealing things of setting up this new version of life. Many metric tons of thanks to all who have donated to or shared the link to the Go Fund Me, headed by the lovely and talented Debbie Jantzen VanSchaick. We are currently seventy percent of the way to goal. If we reach goal within two weeks, I will do a cover reveal on the GFM page for contributors to see first. Storm and I appreciate everything, be in contributions, shares, prayers, good wishes, or whatever it is you do. We’ll take it all.

I did not sit down to write this post with any real plan, other than to mention that MelvaandAnna.com is about to start its new incarnation. Melva and I each have our own individual pages, so we are not unrepresented. I’m still disappointed that we did fall through the cracks like this, but these things do happen. That this should happen now, in the middle of So Many Losses and changes, that they seem to be the norm these days, does not get past me unnoticed.

These days, I have set my taking care of business hours to the traditional nine to five, Monday through Friday. The rest of the time is taking care of myself, because good gracious, do I need it. The big focus on the apartment right now is to Get Stuff Out. I am selling what I can, donating what I can’t, and then the rest gets dumped. I don’t love filling landfills, but I am one person. Some local friends have offered help, which I greatly appreciate. My longer term goal is to clear out the second storage unit by October first, so I can turn in the keys (actually take back my lock) and be done with it. Ideally, I will be able to carry the other unit for the time being, to give myself some breathing room and deal with it over the winter. There is a lot going on right now, in many different locales, and I am but one person.

For the apartment, I plan to clear out Housemate’s room and then seek a roommate from among the local population. I definitely need more people around me on a daily basis, because otherwise, I must sing the song of the lonely extrovert, and nobody wants that. Today’s focus is trash, because it is trash day. If I can throw it out, I am throwing it out. I am talking obvious refuse. If it can be sold or donated, or recycled, I would prefer to do that. Friends near or far, virtually hanging with me via video chat while I declutter, is a great way to help, because companionship makes everything better.

That’s about it for right now. I have to make phone calls I don’t want to make, and it is okay to do it scared. Afterward, I get to work on some journal pages, because that is always good for my central nervous system. How is your week going?

Building a New Normal After Loss

August 19, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

This is an Anna post, but this picture of Storm conveys my mood better than I ever could:

I do not count the days since Housemate passed, because there is only one, and it is a big blur. Housemate’s brother and niece have been up here from Southern State, and we have been navigating the minefield of paperwork and permissions and all that stuff together. We may be in the final stretches of what we can do for now, including finding out whether I have to move or not, and then when all of that is settled, they need to go home.

Living alone does not appeal to me. I am a big old extrovert. Having family and friends close by, as in within my living space is a need. If I am staying, I will be looking for a roommate, which is more stress that could lead to less stress, and there is the process of building a new normal. I hate building a new normal. I have done it too many times. I’m good at it. That is not the problem. Doing it is the problem. I liked the normal I had…well, without the sick family members and the clutter and the usual mental load that came hardwired in me right out of the box.

The Go Fund Me a dear friend set up is teasingly close to halfway, so if you are inclined, share and contribute if you can. Definitely take care of yourself first. There really are no words to say thank you enough, not only for monetary help but all of the kind words as well. They do more good than you will ever know.

Days right now are largely focused around paperwork and permissions and forms and numbers and authorizations and doing a lot more research into probate law than I had expected. Please, please, please, if you don’t have a will, make one. It’s a way to show love to those closest to you. I will be doing that myself when things settle. Sometimes it feels like I want to say if they settle, but they will, as they always do. I am in “in this moment” mode, which is helping. Do one thing at a time, and when 5pm hits, I have done all I can do.

Last night, after Housemate’s family left for the night, I was jumpy. I didn’t want them to go. How am I going to be alone? I grabbed my keys and walked a couple of blocks to CVS for a cold drink. I almost got a snack, but my brain was fried, and picking out snacks was not something for which I had any reserves. Baby steps, at this point. I came home. I sketched out how I wanted to clear off the kitchen table, which became a dumping ground when everything was in “drop everything else, this is an emergency mode.” Some of that stuff had been from when I spent the entire day at the hospital with Rheuben.

This in between period, whatever it is, and whatever is on the other side, is going to be interesting. I have enough time to ramble here before I go off adulting for the day. I am staying hydrated. I have food. but eating is meh. I am getting some sleep. Not enough but some. Still in survival mode. That has a job to do, and I am going to let it.

I don’t know how I want to wrap this together, so I will start off with that. If all goes well, I may be able to take myself to improv class on Saturday, which would be an amazing dose of healing. One step at a time and all those good things. I am still not sure how to wrap this, so I will finish with that as well, and hop to the next obvious thing, which is see you soon.

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

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?

New Season, New Workspace (literal and metaphorical)

March 10, 2026annabowling Leave a comment

The mouse for the laptop where I am writing this is somewhere in the primary bedroom, but I don’t know where. If you have ever had a cat, you understand. I have reached the stage of adjusting my environment to this new shape of our family, which partly involves me turning Real Life Romance Hero’s old desk into my new analog (and Anna Log) and laptop desk, and using the accompanying bookcase into a home for journaling supplies. With the new setup, I should be able to film journal and planning content, which is both exciting and intimidating. As with anything else, I plan to make a bunch of mistakes until I figure out what I am doing in that regard.

The biggest surprise for me is that taking over RLRH’s old desk is that it helps me feel more connected to him. I was not expecting that but not complaining. I’ll take it. Since this is a curbside treasure (city dwellers, if you know, you know) I need to re-surface the surface. I would prefer not to know how it got to its present state. We do have a better desk in storage, but this is the one that is here now, and I am very much interested in using what is here now.

2026 is doing pretty well so far, life-wise, apart from the grief thing. I am working on a blog for the MelvaAndAnna site, about Melva’s brand new solo release, Angel Whisperer..

I remember first experiencing this book as Melva was writing it, in pages submitted for our long-standing critique group. I would describe this as cozy romantic suspense, which Melva does extremely well, this time with a paranormal accent. I will gobble this published version as soon as I am done with my current Kindle read.

For those keeping track, Melva released her nonfiction book, Thanks For the Memories in the end of last year, and together, we put out Drama King, our second Love By The Book title, last month. Last night, I turned in my final-final edits on the Chasing Prince Charming reissue. All we need now is cover art, formatting and uploading. Queen of Hearts is already in the second round of edits, and later this spring, or early in summer, I will be releasing A Heart Most Errant. A Heart Most Ardent is in pre-writing, which also includes poking at A Heart Most Wicked with a stick, as the two stories have slight overlap. Writing a historical series is new to me, writing a series by myself is new to me, and writing medieval is new to me, so there is a learning curve. I have to pay attention in what I am doing with these books, since they are going to affect the fourth book, A Heart Most Wild. I know very little about A Heart Most Wild, and I am okay with that.

There is also the matter of computers. RLRH had more than one laptop. I have a desktop that I named Brick, that peaked with Windows 10, and my beloved rose gold laptop with the expanded battery, so Housemate and I are getting well acquainted with the computer fixer people. Ideally, there will be one desktop and one laptop, all done. The others, I will sell, donate, or recycle. Not top of the line machines, so we are not talking huge profits here, but I am one person, and one good machine is better than a bunch that semi-function, no matter how much I can relate to them.

As of today, I am on season eight of my new TV love, Waterloo Road. There are still about nine more seasons I haven’t seen yet, the show is contracted for two more, and news just dropped that one of my favorite students turned staff members is coming back, this time as a parent, with her mini-her daughter now a student and teenager. She was the first student to come back as staff, but not the first to come back as a parent. I have already seen beloved regulars leave, their characters off to other adventures such as young marriage, university, military service, moving to another country, and even incarceration. I know other favorites, students and teachers alike, will be leaving, some to the great staff meeting in the sky, so to speak, and I know there are a few couples I would have made canon were it in my power. I have added a series tracker to my reading journal, so I can see where I am iny viewing journey. I have also adopted their favorite insult, “you colossal muppet.” Lowercase “m.”

I am also warily eyeing the list of lovely, delightful friends I need to get back to, who sent wonderful messages after RLRH’s passing. We will hit the three-month mark on the day before St. Patrick’s Day. Right now, that feels like just a fact. Closer to the day, that may change. Being more social and active on social media feels more do-able somehow. Many thanks for all who have been patient I will post later about the planning methods that are helping me get things back in order, but this feels good for now.

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.

Journal Writing During Family Emergencies

December 15, 2025annabowling Leave a comment

Yesterday was a gorgeous snow day in NY state. We are not in the city, but I saw plenty of such pictures from those who were, and it was everything I ever would want from a NYC snow day. I did get to see the snow from the waiting room outside where Real Life Romance Hero is staying right now. Yesterday was a good-ish day. The day before, not so much. We are still figuring out a few things. I am not using my planners much right now, as days are pretty much the same – days are for hospital, then home for dinner and sleep. Housemate is handling domestic matters.

Journals, though, I am using a lot. Hospital journal. Personal journal. Notes on writing stuff. Not notes about blogging, because I am winging it for now. This is a time for blurting. What is on my mind is on the page. We are one day at a time-ing it over here. This is my favorite time of year, and yet this year, we are outside of it. That is what it is. I am setting up for 2026, though. I like the focus. This does include writing things. The need to write is strong. Fiction the most, because that’s my big creative love. I am interested to see what my writing will do in and after this season.

Storm is definitely doing her job. When I get home from the hospital, she meets me at the door. She leads me into the bedroom, and insists I lie on the bed, so she can jump on me, loaf, and purr. I pet her. She is warm and soft. She insists that Housemate and I give her gushy food when we have our dinner. She has a new tilted food dish that is only for gushy food. She deserves all the treats and many belly rubs.

Housemate comes with me most days now. Having the company helps a lot. Yesterday, she sat next to me and crocheted, explaining her stitches and such, even though I do not myself crochet. I like the rhythm of her stitches. I tell RLRH about what is happening at home, the weather outside, share memories and inside jokes. I write in my hospital journal, notes on RLRH’s care, and thinking on paper, much like here, whatever is in my brain. I know I need and want to be reading, though my brain is not quite there yet. I haven’t listened to Christmas music; I want to, though. My usual Christmas movie re-watches — Love Actually, The Holiday, About A Boy— I have waved at from a distance. I love them, I think about them, and I can absolutely watch them at any time of the year. Same with Christmas/holiday books, foods, etc.

Family emergencies are tough. Holidays can be tough. Combine the two, and it’s something else altogether. Like I said, we are one day at time-ing the whole thing. That is good enough for now.

Typing With Wet Nails

for the love of romance

mental health