No Viruses

Only crammed full of spyware. Whew! That's a relief, and it was way cheaper to have fixed. Happier now.

I was in a mood, still am actually, so I didn't write last weekend. I did enter a couple of flash stories in an NPR 3-Minute Story Contest. So that's somethng. Thanks, Laurel.

July20--Chinese School, Kitten with Butterfly. Layne sat, hands limp in her lap, staring off into the corner of the room. the constant low buzz in her ears filtered out most of the sounds in the rest of the house. She was conscious of the sound of the children playing outside in the garden and the far-off growl of the vacuum weilded by Mrs. Brandt the housekeeper. She had made an attemnpt to eat her breakfast but only managed a few bites before she spilled the milk onto the tray. She watched the river of milk flow to the edge and drip off, quickly at first with a burr-r-r sound, then slow to a plop-plop as it hit the Persian rug. Socks, Marcie's kitten came in, curled around Layne's ankles, and then found the puddle. The kitten lapped at it, a soft raspy sound that was somehow soothing to Layne's dark mood. A butterfly blundered in from the garden and landed a few feet from Socks in a patch of sunlight. Layne saw the kitten notice the butterfly and crouch, its eyes riveted on the slowly pumping wings. The insect moved a few feet, its fluttering wings flashing like jewels, guaranteed to keep the kitten's attention. Layne picture a stalking lion in the soft brown fur of the kitten so intent on its prey. She smiled and the buzzing in her ears got softer. She felt the veil of darkness lift a bit and she scooped Socks up just as the kitten moved to pounce. "Let's go play outside," she said, and she stepped out into the sunlight. The children said, "Mama, you found Socks," and they ran to hug her.

Sappy, but it's writing. Can't argue with that.
--Barbara