I had a great time. The workshop's students are all women and really serious about writing, we stay in gorgeous stone and log cabins in a matchless setting, and best of all, there's no TV or internet. Now, don't get me wrong I really missed talking to you every day but it was so relaxing to just have a notebook, pencil, laptop, knitting, and my Kindle (I have to read, you know) for entertainment. Oh, and all the brilliant, funny, intelligent, and writerly women I spent my days and nights with. My roomie, JR, and I were good together, each of us hard of hearing enough that our snoring didn't bother each other. We had mostly cold and rainy weather but I did a little walking around on Sunday, the best day of the week, and sloughed off writing Wednesday afternoon when it was nice-ish. I forgot to pack my raincoat (I'll be making that in all CAPS on my TC packing list) but I did have my "...shit, it's raining" umbrella in my car so I stayed mostly dry--and I had an extra pair of shoes so I always had a dry pair. It was windy so the waves were crashing on the shore and the leaves and trees were blowing. It felt a lot like early November instead of early October but this year's been a weather puzzle so I endured. Complained but endured. We all did. One night it was clear enough that the moon was visible for a few minutes so I snapped a picture. Isn't it pretty? I even got some writing written, edited, and rewritten. I won't say either piece I worked on is finished but I'm happy with them.
I missed Durwood and he missed me. He did what we all do, if we're honest, he ignored most of the healthy meals I prepared for him and bought himself a stack of extra-meat TV dinners for suppers so all he had to do was "lick the tray and toss it." Someone suggested that he submit that little jingle to Banquet for their ad campaigns. He bragged that all he had to do was wash a fork and knife, and what do you want to bet he stored them in the dish drainer and used the same ones over and over. I got peeved for a minute, then I realized that means that there's an extra week's worth of frozen I-don't-have-to-cook suppers AND if I'm honest, I'd probably have done the same only I'd have gotten a family size pizza and gallon of chocolate ice cream. Good intentions count, right?
The maple tree's naked. Well, almost but it's about windy and chilly enough today to finish the job. Now I just need the Raking Fairy to come and get them to the curb so the city leaf truck can pick them up next week. The mums are blooming, totally recovered from their late-July haircuts.
Today I hope to clear out under the bed and the bottom of my closet because in 3 weeks the carpet installer needs to be able to see the old carpet to replace it and there's a lot of stuff lurking around here that needs to be moved and, naturally, Mrs. Boss is going to visit her mom for 10 days in the intervening days so I get to work extra hours which means I need to do little bits every day to be ready in time. I've requested some muscle for a couple upcoming weekend days--I have a lot of books and those things are heavy. Later I'll be making a list of places that need tackling, decluttering, and maybe even purging. I envision regular trips to Goodwill and the recycling bin. Wish me luck. I always accuse Durwood of being the pack-rat around here but I suspect I have my own breed of pack-rattiness to contend with. (can you say "yarn & fabric stash"? but that lives in the basement so at least I don't have to move that, thank God)
Oh and our renter knocked on the door about 7:30 this morning to say that their furnace wasn't working. It's Sunday. The fixit people charge extra for Sunday but it's too #$%&* cold to wait until tomorrow. So I called and the guy came right out. Turns out when they did the annual checkup a few months back they disconnect some something to run it and that earlier guy forgot to reconnect it. Phil called it a recall and didn't charge us a dime. I think Phil is my new best friend.
Paul, Herman, and Jean de Limbourg, The Duke of Berry on a Journey. Gina was so seasick she thought she would die. Barry had convinced her to visit him on his boat. "As long as we stay tied up at the dock," she said, "I get seasick." "Sure," he said, "no problem, we'll sit on the deck in the sun and stay tied up." That's how the afternoon began. She arrived at the marina and found Barry's boat, the Inky Squid, in Slip 17 just where he said it would be. He was on the dock looking like he had just stepped out of a catalog. He ushered her on board and settled her in a deck chair that matched his shorts which matched his boat. He had a bottle of white wine on ice and poured out two glasses. Before she knew it the bottle was empty and she felt sleepy. He put up a sun shade and she dozed off. He must not have believed that she would get seasick because while she slept he had untied the boat and sailed out into the bay where the choppy water woke her and sent her to the side where she emptied her stomach until she had no more to lose.
I never liked Barry, did you? I've procrastinated, um, done important writing work long enough, it's time to start making a little tidy, which will hopefully evolve into a big, even giant tidy by Halloween. Hasta la vista, babies.