Month: August 2015

keyed up

Paul came over and took me for a walk in Oakalla.  They have put barn own nesting boxes up, which strikes me as a weird part of the year to be doing that in but still pleasant to see.

After we went to the hardware store.  Paul is tired of handing over his key set every time I drive (I usually drive since I don’t normally hit things and terrorize other passengers and since I don’t have cataracts.) So I got a key cut for his car and he got zip ties and a privacy screen for the front balcony at his place.

I had a key for Paul’s car previously but gave it back and now it just seemed more convenient to get another since I’m driving it so much.

We also picked up beer and cider.  Right about now Paul’s stooging about the airport to go pick up visitors from Australia, buddies of his girlfriend’s about to tour the Northwest Passage.  They will come back to his place and likely crash hard after a fourteen hour flight.  I hope they have a good time.

I wrote absolutely nothing yesterday.  I waffle, I waffle.

Grinding

Final count is just under a thousand words for yesterday.  I got myself set up for today’s big scene.

I’ll just leave this here for mOm.  Permanent reference – glow in the dark fingering weight yarn.  Tom Smith of filking fame posted it to facebook and crafters were immediately hauling out their alien fairisle patterns.  I think it would make great babywear, but what do I know, I don’t craft except once in a very long while and never with particular succes.

Keith was supposed to come by yesterday and never did.  I publicly express disappointment.

Hot as balls, weatherwise.  I’m quoting my cousin.

Bingewatch of S1 West Wing continues.

Writing is slow

160 words so far today; I have broken 65000 words which means… nothing if it doesn’t get published.  Well it means that I’ve written 5000 new words since mOm last looked at the mss.  If I was a proper writer (which I will never be) I’d not show it to anyone until it was ready.

I SAW ALEX YESTERDAY.  He got filthy.  We called it Alex in the Park, the Enfilthening.  Watching him eat a piece of nectarine made me laugh.  Bite, shudder, smile, gum, swallow. I played Otto for him, and sang.  He was much more interested in eating and playing in the sand pile (which I obligingly turned a portion of into mud, which he also enjoyed, thus the filth.)

Watching Katie with her son I am so glad my mOm was not particularly censorious about my child rearing.  We have a family history of shutting the hell up unless it really is demonstrably a safety issue.  Ensuring his immune system grows up hella strong is good; dirt is a social convention, to an extent.

The hormones of parental love make one so swift and so fierce, and in after times it is hard to remember how hard they pulled.

He napped, and then he scared himself with the exercise ball. Katie and I worked on her resumé while he napped, so it was all quite convenient.

His crawling is, erm, vigorous, and he wanted to kill the fan and eat the cat food.

He has six teeth and enjoys showing them in an extremely googoo making grin.  He shared this grin with his greatuncle a few times, including the “Why are you making that remarkably enjoyable noise!?” smile.

 

 

 

ah English… where a sharp guy can be a dull dog who’s too blunt in making his point.

 

Later…. 877 words, phew, I can go watch the Sunday Night Haul. RICK AND MORTY HERE I COME.

rrr

No Wreck Beach yesterday – I was too ill to deal with the stairs.  I feel fine now, of course.

Also, hardly any words at all yesterday and the day before, I think I managed 135 words.  Hope I manage better today.

not much to report

Sinatra under siege.

World’s cutest seal pup (think Pharos.)

I wrote about a hundred words yesterday.

I mostly concentrated on interviewing the candidate for GP (she passed…. she’s my age and she understands about pubic symphysis pain,  yo.)

I looked up yo.  It was popularized in American culture when blacks and Italians mingled in Philadelphia neighbourhoods. It is turning into a singular gender neutral pronoun in Baltimore. “Yo laughed” “I called yo”.

I use it at the end of sentences like the character Jesse in Breaking Bad, or to respond when my name is called, or very occasionally to call attention, “Yo, Paul!”

I am feeling sickly amidships.  It’s painful and really distracting from writing. Yo.