This morning, I drove to work with everything blanketed in cotton-white snow. The scene looked magical. But by the time I headed home, it had melted into a dirty slush. Amazing how quickly things can change. A reminder to embrace every moment. Snow, slush, sun, rain. When only the perfect days are treasured, life loses so much of its color.

We officially live in the age of the Jetson’s. For those of a certain age, you get the reference. Fun fact: some die-hard fans, after much research, believe that George Jetson was born in 2022. Which makes him three.

But need more evidence that flying cars are near? Tonight I went to a Mexican restaurant and got served my meal by a robot. No joke. A little bot with wheels, blasting mariachi music, cruised to my table carrying our hot plates. Turning to leave, it chirped, “Bye!” then rolled off again.

Uh… whoa. The Jetson era, indeed.

Sometimes, maybe even often, it’s good to have a change of scenery. Jess wanted to work in a different space today, so I temporarily moved her home office to the living room — a sunlit area with big windows, a fireplace, and TV.

But there were challenges. Her two monitors needed makeshift tables, and we used a clipboard as an extender for her keyboard. Space for the mouse? No problem. I found a basket, flipped it upside down, then topped it with a glossy magazine for a smooth surface.

Bingo. New scenery, new vibe.

What’s the best way to stay encouraged as a writer? While books and podcasts are nice, the #1 way is being a part of a writing community. Sounds cliche, but it’s true.

When I first started writing novels, I had zero writing friends. Zilch. I knew that had to change. So almost two years ago, on a cold February afternoon, I launched a monthly writing group sponsored by the Williamsburg library.

Around 120 are on the rolls, and about 35 show up each month. But the best part? I’ve now got lots of writing friends. A whole roomful. When you need encouragement, you shouldn’t wait for it. Just make it.

God, I hate goodbyes.

Even when I know they’re for the good. Hate em, hate em, hate em. Especially at this stage of our parenting. Today, Jake and Sam left for school, the last kids remaining from Christmas break. When the kids drive away, a silence always falls. The house goes into winter. And I start to feel the chilly air of getting older, the reality that I’m not needed as much. Makes me long for the next HELLO!

God, I hate goodbyes.