It was a spectacularly beautiful sunny June day. I was sitting in a park in Tiburon across the bay from San Francisco looking across the water to the city. Alcatraz was in the foreground, and the bay was peppered with sailboats. The fog blanket was moving in over the Golden Gate Bridge on it’s way…

It seems that one can never fully plumb the depths of inspiration provided by marriage and motherhood, and yet with all the fodder they provide, there is the fear as a writer of becoming stale. That’s my super fancy way of saying I began February with writers block. Then I got hit with food poisoning…