Thursday, September 16, 2010

Dark At Day

It's so dark right now that it looks like after sundown. It's not raining that hard, only a bit, but the clouds sure are thick. What a cheerful start to the day!

Speaking of cheerful, my writing group is resuming today, two members shorter than when we took a break, but Peggy and I will be there and next week Nancy will rejoin us and we'll scribble our way into the future. I'm looking forward to digging back in since I'm going to The Clearing for a week's worth of writing workshop on October 2nd and I need to unlimber my fiction chops. I've been mostly writing non-fiction this summer so I need to shift gears, or learn to shift back and forth since it looks like those 2 non-fiction gigs, TC's newsletter, Siftings, and the dive club's newsletter, Neptune's Trident, are ongoing. Kind of grownup, don't you think? Yeah, I do too and it sort of feels odd, but I guess when you hit 59 you have to face the fact that at least part of the time you have to pretend to be a grownup.

Hey, did you know that you can borrow books on cd from the library--for free??? Yep, you really can and not just boring old stuff either. You can listen to them while you knit or walk or workout or drive. It's the coolest thing. I learned how to put them on my little mp3 player so I can carry them easily and then when I'm done listening I erase them from the laptop and they go right away from the player too. Isn't that amazing? Technology is amazing. I suppose it's not totally legal but I figure if I don't keep them, just change their format for ease of use, it's okay. I mean, are there squads out there looking into that sort of thing? Is the Joe Friday of the digital world going to ring my doorbell anytime soon? I hope not. I don't think I'd fare well in the joint.

September 15--Bled Island, Slovenia. "The Church of the Assumption dates from the 15th century..." The voice of the tour guide was barely audible over the crackle of static in Vera's earphones and the accented English didn't help. Vera found her attention drifting as she gazed at the tiny island off the port bow of the tour boat. The whitewashed stone church and the rectory were perched at the top of a wide, stone staircase that rose right out of the still lake. She imagined open boats rowed by dark men ferrying the pious to mass five centuries ago as the rich full sound of the steeple bells called them to prayer. Just as she had the thought their tour boat rounded the island and the bells tolled the Angelus, the clear notes echoed off the surrounding hills and the found of her grandmother sounded in her memory, "The angel of the Lord declared unto Mary: And she conceived of the Holy Ghost..." Goosebumps shivered up her spine and tears sprang to her eyes. It had been nearly forty years since her grandmother had died and she suddenly missed her as if it had been a single day.

*sigh* I miss my grandma. Does anyone pray the Angelus anymore? I'll have to Google it. Stay dry today--and write something.

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