Five and writing

Not much to report upon workout number five. I am pleased that it is difficult to get bored going around the circle two times. Also had an annual exam at the doctor today. Not doing so well with my sugars. One day my kidney will just fall out, I expect. I hate medicine.

Recently my father passed away. I've received so many kind condolences, as everyone understood that there was not much of a relationship between us. The grave sadness everyone feels is the absolute permanence of the finality of it all. There never will be an opportunity to bridge the canyon of a gap between me and my father, unless I figure out how to communicate with the other realm. I received a sum of money and a sweet hand-written note from the pastor of my late grandmother's (my father's mother) reverend. I composed a fantastic Thank-You letter, and received an email from Reverend Camp praising my writing ability. He described my writing to be eerily like my grandmother's. She had the knack. I have many friends and former friends who encourage me to write professionally. My biggest fear is my novel will be three pages long. That's about all I can muster. I cannot fathom how all that other filler is created. I secretly dream my financial rescue will be my first novel that sit's on the New York Times' bestseller list for 35 weeks. It's festering inside me. If the chemical exchanges increase in fiercity, it might just spray out of me. I can only hope.