Why I do it...

Sometimes I think, "why do I keep doing this freelance writing?"

When I am busy I am too busy and when I am not busy, the checks don't flow in. The worst is when I am busy with nickel and dime stuff. Right now is not bad: a mix of stuff, spaced out just enough to not make me completely crazy, and most of it is the sort of writing that pays enough to be worth doing.

However, there are still those moments when the regularity of a workplace sounds mighty nice.

And then...

I am working on a fairly tough political piece, and Amalia is in her bedroom. She comes into the kitchen and asks if I can draw with her, which I can't. "That's OK, Babbo. You can draw with me later, but I want to draw here next to you."

Then she sits down on the floor with a piece of brown paper, draws a cow, sometimes telling me what part of the cow she was working on (or cow's clothing. This one started with a shirt and shorts and ended up in a nightgown), sometimes singing Hank Williams. When the drawing was done, she used scissors to make a Western-style fringe around the edge and gave me the drawing.

That never happened at the office.