Can’t believe a week flew by blog family. That’s what happens at the end of a New York City summer. We all go nuts because we know the sidewalks just won’t be the same in a few months. Everyone crowds to street cafes to guzzle their last rounds of frozen drinks before autumn arrives and we swap our summer cocktails for pumpkin ales and replace our singlets with sweaters.
Sigh.
It goes so fast.
To see summer out properly and conclude the ritual of forgetting that kid I liked for a week or so, I’ve been going on dates. Again.
Being a swaggy, independent lady like myself here in the big smoke – it’s pretty easy getting dates. I actually had three in the same day last week. Dates aren’t the hard thing to land. Second dates, that’s another story. 
Yesterday, I met a southern gentleman with three skateboards who said my name with an accent so subtle, I nearly slid off the couch by the third time he said it – leaning in to lap his drawl.
I reckon we’ll see each other again.
In the meantime, also, writing. Still pounding book and pushing for it to be done by the end of October. Just so I can be onto the next one. I’ve felt much better than I did at the start of July. I attribute it to a few things, but mainly I think it’s because my work is going well. I’m very Virgo that way. The better my projects are coming along, the more my mood improves.
Basically, I stay hustling.
My birthday is in like two weeks, I’ve already put in for three days off.