Something to read as I work on my next novel.
Coffee is dear to my heart. It began at a young age, tasting my mom’s coffee ice cream for the first time. Then I worked at a coffee shop for two years and one thing led to another. . .
I’ll just get into it. Because as soon as I finish this post, I get to run downstairs and get free, you-know-what warm delicious goodness from the hotel lobby.
This hotel is wonderful.
When any woman is in a glorified, high and honored position, she should be a lot of things.
Graceful. Intelligent. Quiet (when the moment calls for it). A leader. Strong. Mature.
I have my moments. Moments I walk into a room and exercise momentary restraint by not screaming “whoo does it STINK in here! Do you SMELL that? No really. Do you smell that?” and proceeding then, in an undertone, to lean over to my neighbor and murmur, “who do you think did it?”
Then I have my moments of complete and utter failure. Moments I look back on, tilt my head, and think: maybe that’s why I wouldn’t make a good first lady. . .
There are few things in life that I consider myself a true authority in.
Vanilla shakes, sarcasm, and keeping self-entertained are examples of such things.
But when it comes to being thrifty, saving money, and—yes, being broke—oh, my wisdom reigns supreme.
For example, you may be broke if. . .
