Hey, I’ve reached the age of retirement. Or so I thought. Foolish me to think I could actually spend my days sipping lemonade on the deck and communing with the deer, bears and mosquitoes that frequent our neck of the woods.

Instead, I’m full-on busy as a part of a family business making and selling fudge, fudge-filled banana bread (yes, that’s no typo, we actually make it and are the only business on earth that does, so far as I know), and cinnamon nuts. That’s in addition to being a full-time writer who started out writing and selling short stories and segued successfully into clean romance novels.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so ambitious. If I’d forget about delicious treats both edible and readable, maybe I could actually find the time to talk to those bears, etc.

Or maybe not because perhaps that’s just the kind of person I am and, if I wasn’t doing those things, I’d be doing something different that would keep me just as busy.

Am I unique or is this a part of being a human being? Are there other people out there who feel the same?

Inquiring minds want to know.

I want to know.