Snow & Wind

 

Yippee.  We had rain, freezing rain, and snow today.  I cancelled my session with the trainer because I didn't want to be out on the icy roads.  I waited until about 6:00 to go out and clear the driveway.  I am so grateful for the snowblower because the snow and ice was heavy and hard to move.

It started snowing and blowing again almost as soon as I came in from shoveling so by the time I was ready to close up shop for the night there was snow on the less salty parts of the driveway and enough snow is blowing around that it turns on the motion sensor lights.




 

Instead of going to the Y today I closed up the TV armoire, stowed my knitting out of sight, and got to work on my manuscript again.  I found a glaring hole in the story that will take at least a chapter's worth of writing to fix.  I'm about 50 pages from finishing the read-through and then I'll tackle the edits, corrections, and that hole in the story.  It needs to get done because I'm taking it to the Writer's Institute in Madison in April to pitch to a couple of agents.  (eek!)  Then I can start working on whipping the next manuscript into shape.



After supper of more Asian Turkey Meatballs with sauteed baby bok choy with scallions on the side (yum!) I finished February Preemie Hat #2 while watching mindless TV.  I watched Wisconsin Foodie on the local PBS station because it was about Door County but I gotta say, the host is ultra-annoying.  I'd hoped that my tolerance for his voice or manner or whatever it is that bugs the daylights out of me had grown but nope, it hasn't.  I still can't stand the guy.

7 February--Tropical Obsession. 

Trying to walk in the sandy places in the shallows he moved out of the cleft in the ironshore rocks and shone his flashlight at the white fiberglass boat purring on the horizon. Ready with a story in case the dawn light was playing tricks and instead of Santiago in the Santa Marta the boat carried the Coast Guard or worse yet the fish police, Manning thought about how he had gotten into this mess. His whole life he had attracted a, let's say, more interesting class of people. His mother, his social-climbing, money-loving mother hated his friends, forced him to live his life in the shadows to avoid her disapproval. A sly smile lifted the corners of his mouth when he saw the flash of Santiago's smile when the Santa Marta reached the edge of the drop-off. Manning waded out, swimming the last few yards. He slipped over the gunwale like an eel, pulled the zippered plastic pouch out from under his shirt and counted out the pile of guilders. "I said dollars," Santiago said, his smile draining away from his eyes and lips. "You want me to explain to the bank manager why guilders aren't good enough? 'Dollars are what smugglers want, sir.' Yeah, that'd be great." The hard light in Manning's icy blue eyes stopped Santiago's complaint.

Man, it's windy out there.  I'm glad I'm in here where it's warm and the electric blanket is warming up my beddy-bye.  Tomorrow afternoon a friend and I are going to tackle organizing and sorting the knitting guild library so I've got to print out the inventory before going to bed.  Hasta la vista, babies.
--Barbara