Slipping Knots

This hasn't been a good time to be a writer in the Pacific Northwest.  I went to Dianna Rodger's memorial gathering, and there I learned that Kate Wilhelm had died (apparently in her home with family).  I didn't know Kate very well.  For about two years I was in a monthly writers' workshop she held at her house.  She was always very gracious and kind and I always appreciated the rigour of her critiques.   

Another writer, Mary Rosenblum, died in a plane crash over the weekend.  Mary was a Reedie (from "Old Reed").  I'd only met her once when she led a Clarion weekend writers' workshop, and I wish I had known her better.   

I feel like I'm in an unravelling tapestry, the remaining threads fading.  

I feel like I got very little writing done over the weekend.  According to Scrivener, I wrote 635 words Friday, 916 words Saturday, and 121 words Sunday.  Sunday, I also drew up a very bad map of the capital city of Lampton, which is a major setting for the novel -- which I'm going to have to re-do because there's not enough cliffs, and the river (and therefore the dockyards) doesn't make any sense.  

No gym visitations... although I did try out some playground equipment when the Family went for a walk.