What's Wrong With This Picture?

 
What's wrong is that it's not even the middle of November and it's 15 degrees and snowing like crazy.  Arrgh.

 



See that?  That's my lawnmower and there's three inches of new snow out there with more on the way.  That meant that I got to drag the mower around to the shed in the backyard.  Drag, because it wouldn't start and the snow was too deep for it to get through anyway.  So I got that put away.



Then I had to shove the snowblower around from the shed to the garage.  Shove, because the electric start wouldn't.  Start.  It growled at me a few times and then stopped making any noise at all.  I texted my fixit neighbor and he'll take a look at it on Saturday.  I hope it's something he can fix with a screwdriver or BFH (big f-ing hammer) but I suspect I'll be calling a small engine shop next Monday.






We found some horses to look at in Lexington (what a surprise!)





and Henry Clay's modest little obelisk in the Lexington Cemetery.  That's a lot of marble for one guy.





 

DD took my picture next to one of the Transylvania University signs.  It's the oldest college west of the Alleghenies but I keep expecting Count Dracula to come striding out with his cape billowing.  Hasn't happened yet and everyone I saw looked healthy and not short on blood.


13November--Barbara Malcolm, Spies Don't Retire. 

Miriam and Jane were active members of both the diver/snorkelers group and the birdwatchers.  They were also involved with, but much less active in, the Art League and Literary Roundtable.  It was through them that George and Dimitri heard of their wives’ running verbal battles, and both men were at a loss about how to go about engineering a ceasefire.

**YOU NEED TO SHOW THE WOMEN TELLING G&D ABOUT THE MEETINGS, THEN G&D’S CONVERSATION HOW THEY MIGHT FIX THE PROBLEM******

“Looks like rain.”  George stood at the screen door staring at the dawn climbing up behind dark gray clouds.

“So?” said Sonia.

“So, this morning’s bird watching.  We’re starting a count of species on the north end.”    

 “And you can’t count birds in the rain?”

He turned to her, the gleam of a recent convert in his eyes and a small frown creasing his brow.  “Not many birds fly in a hard rain, dear.  You can't count birds you can’t see.”

“Ah.”  She went back to slicing fruit and kept an eye on a fry pan sizzling with cubes of Spam and scrambled eggs.

George paced from the front of the house to the back, muttering as he checked the gathering clouds.  He finally stepped out onto the patio to crane his neck to see around the shrubs, the better to see the sky toward the north.  “Doesn’t look too bad up at the north end.”

As she carried their breakfast try out to the patio table, Sonia said, “Why don’t you give Jeffrey a call?  He’s the one to make the decision, isn’t he?  Breakfast is ready.”

George moved to sit where he could see the sky to monitor the cloud movement.  “Actually, Roskova’s in charge today.  I could call him, I suppose.”  He peeked to see her reaction.

Sonia’s face slammed shut, her lips thinned, and her sculpted brows drew together.  “Why is that…that Russian in charge?”

George sighed at her vehemence.  “Because rewriting the old guide was his idea, so he’s coordinating the outings, that’s why.”

They were both silent while they kept eating.  When he had put his fork down for the last time and drained his glass of juice, he reached across the table a laid his hand on hers.  “Dimitri is an all right guy.  He is not trying to subvert me or turn me.  That part of both our lives is over.  You need to be over it too.”

She looked at him with tears in her eyes.  “Isn’t it naïve to think that the habits of a lifetime are forgotten forever when they give you a gold watch and a handshake goodbye?  Don’t you think he’d be a hero if he were able to pass on some tidbit you accidentally let slip?”

“And don’t you think that the habits of my lifetime of work keep my tongue from wagging when it shouldn’t?  I am not such a doddering old fool that I tell everything I know yet.”

She put her other hand on his.  “I know you aren’t.  I just worry that you might let your guard down.”

He stood up, hitched up his shorts, and began piling the dishes on the tray she had used to bring them out.  “Don’t you worry, my dear.  Sharper men than Dimitri Roskova have tried.  And failed, I’m proud to say.”  He carried the tray of dirty dishes into the bright kitchen flooded with sunlight.  As he rinsed them and slotted them into the dishwasher, he said, “Looks like we’ll have a fine day after all.  I’ll keep my guard up, love.”

“Enjoy your day,” she said, as he left carrying his binoculars and a boonie hat.

“Don’t forget your sunscreen, George,” she called after his retreating form, but it was too late.

See how I remind myself when I find a huge hole in the story?  I'll get around to it one of these days.  Right now I'm totally focused on finishing The Seaview.  I'm this close to done.

I got a haircut this morning and it was a real slide to get across town since this snow was unexpected so the city didn't pre-salt the streets like they usually do and there's no seasonal build-up to help.  It was slick out there.  So slick I cancelled my writing date to come straight home.  We'll go write on Friday instead.  Still tired.  Going to hit the hay.
--Barbara