Windy & Drizzly, And On My One Day Off

It couldn't be sunny today, could it? Wind I like. I like the colorful leaves swirling around and the yellow ones flapping on the tree out my window. But I don't like drizzle. Not when I plan to roast a chicken on the grill. I'd rather not have to roll the grill around to the garage and cook in there, not with the gas can for the lawn mower right there, but I will if I have to. I've got my pumpkin bread in the oven and I'm frowning at the sky trying to scare away the precipitation. I'll let you know how successful (or how stubborn) I am tomorrow.

October 25--Write about small scrapes and bruises--It was just a scratch. A thin red line that appeared on Regan's left forearm after her shower. She shrugged thinking that she'd scratched herself, but it didn't go away. In fact it got longer and then branched off in opposite directions, one side twining around her wrist and the other doubling back on the underside of her arm toward her elbow. She dabbed the line with antiseptic cream at first, when that had no effect she tried hydrocortisone, then she patted pink calamine lotion on the rapidly spreading lines. Boxes with letters in them had begun to appear near the places where lines crossed and within a week they had spread up her arm, all over her torso, and begun to creep down her right leg. It didn't itch, it didn't hurt. Regan felt only a slight tingling when the lines were on the move. She went to see a dermatologist at the end of the week, desperate to know what was happening. The doctor, a bald man with a foreign accent and gold rimmed spectacles examined her, frowning and humming as he traced her skin lines with his friendly gray eyes. He asked the usual questions about vaccinations and childhood diseases, then went back to his humming. Finally he asked, "Have you been to Paris lately?" Regan shook her head, fearing she had somehow contracted a French disease. "I've never been to Paris." "Interesting," said the doctor, "because the lines on your skin trace an exact map of the Paris Metro."

I like it. I don't know what to do with it, but I like it.
--Barbara