It's Coming...

I looked out the patio doors the other morning and saw one.  This morning I saw three.  Three juncos.  Juncos are little black birds with gray bellies that live in the Arctic in the summer and winter here in Wisconsin where it's so-o-o-o-o-o much warmer.  And they're here.  That means winter is on the way.  Yippee.

Yesterday after I posted to the blog I gathered up my laptop, two chapters of my novel, my iPod and earbuds, and drove away to write in a cafe.  I thought about going to Luna in DePere but that's a mere block from St. Norbert College and I expected it to be clogged with students.  I thought about Kavarna on Broadway but parking there sucks and I'm not familiar enough with it to be assured of a quiet spot to spread out my work.  There is no way I'm going to Starbucks, any Starbucks, anyplace.  (I think their coffee always tastes burned and the one closest to my house can't even make tea right.  I'm not a fan, can you tell?)  So I went to The Attic downtown where my writing group used to meet.  I had no more sat down, ordered a cup of soup (got to pay table rent), and got out my computer and chapters when I heard a man's voice, "Hey, Barb, how've you been?"  It was the brother of a guy who was in the writing group; we all went to the same high school.  We chatted for a couple minutes while I ate my soup, then I excused myself, plugged the earbuds into my ears and got to work.  A few minutes later a very tall man paused in front of where I sat looking at the available tables.  I looked up and said, "Am I in your spot, Jack?"  He said no and set his laptop up at the table by the outlet.  He'd been hanging around The Attic when I wrote there a lot and he'd been a regular at Harmony Cafe's Open Mic Nite where he'd dodge into the Green Room where the knitters met to tune his guitar if it was too noisy in the hall.  We chatted a bit and both went to work.  I got one chapter rewritten in about an hour so I plunged right back into the next one and got that one done too.  I think that's the end of the "easy" chapters, from here on things need to be rearranged and expanded with lots of little things added, and at least one little tweak where I've already been.  Now the real work starts.

Oh, and when I got up to leave there was another guy who'd been hanging out there all those years ago AND I thought I saw the barrista who worked then too.  It was kind of old home week, like I'd walked back in and slid into a slot that's been waiting for me all these years.  It was a little surreal.

Last night at knitting I finished the second teacup and when I'm done here I'll go downstairs to felt the tea set.  Then I worked on Sudoku Violet #3.  I got to the halfway point this morning while visiting with Don's monthly breakfast friends.  Next it's all downhill.  Yay. While I'm waiting for the tea set to felt I think I'll cut out some cotton squares to make some soup bowl cozies for Xmas gifts.  That'll be a good use of my time and keep me from going up and down, up and down.  My knees will appreciate that.

Last night after knitting I heard an owl hooting in a nearby tree.  I went out with my camera, turned it on to video to see if I could capture the sound.  I kind of did but it sounded like it was moving away.  One of these days I'll see an own in the wild.  I just heard a hawk.  Maybe the Red-tails are back.  I've found a few clumps of feathers under the birdfeeders so maybe.

October 10--Rob Gilley, Southern California.  Reva watched from the beach as the surfer dudes rose the waves.  The day was sunny and windy but not too hot to sit in the sun.  She was careful not to get burned but she couldn't stop watching them paddle out, pick a wave, paddle like crazy to catch it, then they'd pup up onto their feet and be surfing.  She thought they looked like they were weightless.  Some of the waves seems to try to upend the surfboards, sending a ripple across to throw the dudes off balance.


Today my mother-in-law would have been 117 years old.  Happy Birthday, Vi!  Now it's time to put things into hot water.  I'm off to felt.
--Barbara