Atsa my boy.

Oh what bliss - a normal summer day, hot but not unbearable, just right, as Goldilocks might say. So nice to have energy to do things, instead of just trying to breathe. I need energy - spent the day getting ready for my Write in the Garden workshop tomorrow - ten eager writers spending the whole day writing on the spot in the backyard, with a break for lunch, which I made today, plus whipping dusty house and messy garden into shape. And soon, friend Chris is going to send me his next bunch of edits. What do you mean, this manuscript is not PERFECT?

Just fiddling around on the 'net - found a review of the recent Paul McCartney concert in Seattle. He played to a sold-out house of 47,000 people, and invited members of Nirvana to play with him. The review concludes:

Paul McCartney is 71, rich and famous beyond measure, and one might suppose he has little to prove. But he gave the Safeco crowd a gift that isn’t often witnessed at superstar shows: he made the most famous songs in rock feel youthful, fresh, alive, important, vital.

It was magnificent.

Yes, he is. Magnificent.

And here's a writer joke: