Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Wet Socks

Mmm, there's nothing like having on wet socks, is there? I didn't think I stepped in any puddles this morning but I must have, and we can use the rain, even though I had planned to weed the garden and rent a Mantis tiller to get ready to plant later this month, but I can take a day of staying dry and clean and working on a story. The knitters want me to bring a story or a chapter to read to them on Friday nights and I think I will. It's rather flattering that they're so eager to listen.

May 10--Cephalonia, Greece. "There must be a storm out to sea," Robert said. He stood on the headland overlooking the harbor. Maddy looked at the blue water lapping at the sandy beach so far below. "Why?" He pointed. "Look at the way the sand swirls in the bay." He moved his hand like he was stirring a great cauldron. "See how it draws it up from the bottom? It looks like cream poured into coffee. I think a storm must be what makes it move like that." They wanted to get down to the beach but the only paths looked too steep. "An island made for goats," Robert said with a curl of his lip. He had a negative comment about every place they had visited but Maddy knew that his opinion would be totally different once they were home and he was bragging to everyone about their "cruise through history."

I had such a different idea when I started writing and it just fell apart. That was one of those nights when I tell myself as I snuggle down to sleep, well, at least I wrote.

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