I haven't written much this year because I've been reeling from my broke state.  It's a challenge to live while surviving.  I'm not throwing a pity party.   A lot of people are struggling.  I have to count my blessings.   I just didn't expect to be in this place at this time.

 I didn't grow up with money.  But, it was normal back then to just have the basics and  to hear, "Wait until payday."  My parents always manged to put food on the table and to keep a roof over our heads.  They fought the good fight and we marched into the middle class.  My father worked two jobs for several years.  And, Mama went back to work two weeks after I was born.  Grandma watched me and we got by. 

I find it harder  to have a cash flow problem in middle age and during hard times.  Especially after achieving literary and monetary success.  Well, I'm going to stop fronting.  I'm working a day job oncall now.  My money is funny and my change is strange.  But, I still feel blessed.  

Yes, I'm scared.  When I see people sleeping in doorways or pushing shopping carts, I begin to do the math.  How many paychecks away from the street am I?  Maybe I'm just being paranoid.  I have friends, family, fans, talent and a college education.  But, is that enough of a buffer during these hard times? 

I talked to a co-worker recently  who confided that she doesn't make much money. Yet somwehow she manages to make ends meet.  I asked her what her secret was.  She answered, "God."  I'm keeping her answer in mind.  You heard?