Tonight will just be tidbits running through my mind:

• The 2012 Brown County 4-H Fair is over, and it’s bittersweet. I love spending time with my friends, and we do a lot of that during Fair Week. Often, that’s the only time I see them. But by the end of the week, fatigue and … well… fatigue… has all of us booth-sitters ready to pack up and go on with our lives. I get a little sad, though, when I see all the booths begin to pack up early on Saturday night (self-inclusive). Plans are already being tossed around for a bigger and better fair booth next year.

• Most of those who know us realize that we are just more than two weeks away from transporting our baby from the safe, close confines of Brown County to the great big metropolis of New York City. Though I’m excited for our trip, I don’t know how I will handle leaving him there… that lovable child hugging me every day… left to forge his own way in The Big Apple.

• At the same time, our eldest, who just graduated film school, is pondering his launch into the world, and I pray that he chooses New York, instead of the more likely choice, Los Angeles. I am so proud of this child… young man… who has overcome so many obstacles to pursue the field that he loves so dearly, film. I just hope when he launches, it’s on the same coast as his brother.

• Speaking of these two amazing young men, I am so fortunate that they are the best of friends. Parents can only hope that their children love each other and can get along. We are fortunate these two are best friends, who would defend the other at any cost. It makes my heart proud to hear them making plans for their future working together, Tyler in film and Zachary in acting. The pride I feel is immeasurable.

And finally, this is on my mind…

• I have known since I was 12 years old that I wanted to be a writer. I would spend my lunchtime writing fictional stories for my friends. These stories told tales of them experiencing their dreams. I have been lucky enough to spend about 20 years pursuing my dream as a writer and editor. I thought all my passion for writing would erupt when I signed up last August to pursue my master’s degree in creative writing. Now, as I start my final class, I don’t feel that way anymore. All I feel is despair, doubt, frustration and a burning desire to leave writing behind and find a path that fulfills me, rather than discourages me. When this class closes at the end of the month, most likely, so will my dreams of writing. I’m tired of this inconsistent, tragic journey on which the MFA has launched me. I’m ready to call it quits.

That, my dear friends and followers, is what is on my mind this evening.