Light at the End of the Tunnel

In a few weeks, we’ll be moving from Oklahoma and returning to Louisiana.  I’m trying to finish a requested manuscript to submit to Harlequin’s Love Inspired line before we pull out of here. Once we get home, there will be many distractions until we “settle in” and get into the Louisiana mindset.

I’m looking forward to being back, even though Oklahoma has been a great adventure. We’ve made a lot of friends, found a wonderful church and I’ll miss meeting my friend Janie at the Mustang Library several times a month for a writing day.

Every move we’ve made, I’ve faced readjustment and a new writing schedule. I know that my writing always suffers until I acclimate. This time could be a little different: hubby is going to retire and I’m facing permanence.

We often say, “Nothing lasts forever” or “This, too, shall pass” or “There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”  That’s the thing—there’s always been a light at the end of the tunnel for us if we didn’t like a place.

The word permanence makes me uneasy. Same 0’ same 0’ scares me. A routine life sounds both appealing and boring. Okay, we’re facing another adventure, but will we like it?

Do you have any tips? Share a writing schedule with me.  If you were/are retired and wake up in the same place every day with no demands made on your life, what would you do?

Recommended Evacuation

And we're staying!

Lake Charles, Louisiana is hunkered down . . . waiting.

My husband just went out to mow the grass. In fact, his words to me were, "I think I'll mow the yard while I wait." He says the water flows better when the grass is shorter.

What am I doing?
I took a shower, washed my hair. I figure I'd better be pretty clean starting out because once we lose our air conditioning, things are gonna get a little rank.

I found a miniature portable TV but the batteries had corroded inside it. I did put fresh AAs in a small weather radio.

Seriously, I don't want to be here. Our mayor has strongly advised everyone to get out. Yesterday, all our neighbors had planned to stay. This morning, I spotted my friend across the street packing up her car. That unnerves me.

"Don't forget the hatchet," my daughter says. She also took a shower and washed her hair.
"What? Why?" My nerves are on edge.
"We might have to hack our way through the roof if water gets high." My smart daughter. She used to live in New Orleans.

I don't like being scared--especially at night when there's nothing but darkness. We're just two hours from Houston and what frightens me most is the thought of Ike turning and heading our way. Our curfew starts at 10:00 am -- that's one hour from now. I have one hour to throw things in the car and head out. I sort of enjoy visualizing my husband running behind trying to catch me.

Keep Lake Charles in your prayers. I've never been a good camper. I get mean when I get hot and hungry. We're in for a bumpy ride... and so is hubby. :-)