Where Did They Go?

One of the women at The Clearing a couple weeks ago had very cool, animal shape paperclips. (I know!) So I ordered some.  Well, I got double what I thought I'd get because I neglected to delete the first bunch when I found another set with more fish.  *sigh* Oh well.  This morning I was opening the little packs of each individual clip (the ones I meant to delete), opened the pack of green sailboats, and dropped it.  I felt it hit my foot and then it must have gone through a worm hole or something because it's gone.  Really gone.  I even got a flashlight out and laid on the floor to check under the bed, under the desk, under the desk chair, I even shook out my crocs.  Never found them.  I have one clip to prove that they existed but for the life of me I can't find them.  They'll turn up but...

My day did not improve.  In the afternoon I went down to do laundry and decided to sew up a pair of pants I had cut out while the wash washed.  I sewed on the pockets, then sewed the pieces together WRONG. You can't see in this photo but I sewed the backs together at the side and the fronts together at the side.  WRONG.  I'm trying to decide if I want to spend a couple hours hunched over with the seam ripper (made by the guy using the lathe at The Clearing a couple weeks ago) and do it right or just toss it and forget it.



I found a cache of USB drives that I looked at today and on the one with Aunt G's photos found some great old, and not so old, family photos, including this one.  I figure it's from about 1976 when Aunt G had her nun jubilee and we all went down to Evansville.  Love the leisure suit, AJ, and TW's bow tie.  Groovy.



Here's the mutant carrot, the only mutant carrot.  I haven't eaten it yet.  Maybe I won't, I'm enough of a mutant already.





21 October, Barbara Malcolm, Spies Don't Retire.

The door to Billie’s bedroom opened with a nearly inaudible click.  “Your breakfast, Ma’am.”  Billie’s housekeeper, Minerva, glided into the room, her face impassive.

“Oh, Minnie, I keep telling you not to be so formal.”

“I prefer that you call me Minerva, ma’am.  I like to keep my place.”

In six years, Billie hadn’t given up trying to worm her way into Minerva’s friendship, but the Antillean woman had very strong opinions about her relationship with her employer.  “I wish you’d stop being so formal, Minerva.”

“But, ma’am, formality gives me the strength to perform my duties so Madame’s household runs well.”

Billie picked up her glass of fresh-squeezed juice.  “What you are telling me is if you and I are friends then you would not be as efficient as you are.”

“That is correct.”

Billie slanted a wry glance at the younger woman.  “But it is not as much fun.”

Minerva allowed herself a small smile.  “Perhaps not, but it is the only way I can continue to work here.”

“All right, I give up.  This time.”  She peeked at the woman near the door through her longer than average eyelashes.  “But I will keep trying.”

A smile twinkled in the younger woman’s eyes.  “I would expect nothing less, ma’am.”  She silently opened the door and let herself out.

“I just love a verbal joust,” Billie said to herself.  “But I will win in the end.”  She addressed herself to her breakfast of fresh croissants, orange marmalade made with honey, fresh melon, and a pot of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee, while she planned her day.

I spent most of the day writing a knitting guild blog post and then my 15 minutes of writing the Seaview.  I'm determined to get the darned thing finished someday.  Oh, that new manuscript, Spies Don't Retire, may not be complete.  I can't remember if I ended it or just petered out.  Time will tell.  And it was my very first National Novel Writing Month effort.
--Barbara