I really can't write much. I'm on a project deadline and trying to stay focussed and not procrastinate. So I am not really thinking about much of anything else other than this report. Except the crappy book, Little Brother, I spent time reading for the Coursera class. More on this anon. My last essay will be in the form of a screed.
Spring is around. Word has it that it will be in the 70s this week. I saw the first shoot of the seeds and bulbs I planted a week or so ago. A watched pot never grows.
So this is just a check in. Albert and I did our walk today although, again, I didn't stay out too long.
And all I actually have to offer as a writer, is my version of life. — Anne Lamott
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