Sunday midday

Sunday. Sunny. It’s going to be warmer than yesterday.

My back does not hurt. No, I misspeak. What I mean to say is that my back only hurts the normal amount and that I can, literally, work with that.

Prudence dictates that I do not go to the Oxford gem show today. I’m sure they’ll do fine without me.

The actual plan for today is to not weed the garden, which really,  really needs it. Maybe I’ll throw in a load of laundry to feel like I’m doing something to alleviate the chaos that is the present state of the house.

I will be writing.

I’m about halfway through EMoon’s Horngard, and having a really fine time with it. You guys are going to love this one!

This morning I received news from the US postal service of interest to us all. The perambulating package left New York yesterday, arrived in New Hampshire, and was drop kicked to — anyone? . . . Yes, you, right here in front . . . In fact — yes. Thank you.

The Southern Maine sorting center, the root cause of all of this unseemly gadding about the Northeast.

USPS informs me that I will have my package tomorrow, Monday, July 13th.

I await developments with interest.

What developments are you awaiting with interest on this fine Sunday morning?

Dictated to my phone. Please excuse voice-os
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Getting started snippet. This will perhaps be familiar to anyone who has been on, or witnessed, a panel at a con.

“Right,” Tez said. “Meetin’ rules. Hear me out—all the way out, Cousins!—before questions. Question period’s limited to questions, neither captain nor crew is asking for advice or alternate plans. The quicker the questions are put and answered, the quicker we can get back to our beers. Who of you don’t understand what I just said? Put up a hand.”
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Spent the morning trying to track down this “ruler fractin” Jethri has in his pocket in Steve’s last draft. I have concluded that this was not set up in Fair Trade, and now I get to decide if it’s useful/I want to keep it. If I want to keep it, I have to introduce it, which ought not to be completely impossible, being as Jethri took delivery of a Whole Lotta fractins from Elsvair.

Well.

Research is still writing, but it’s not words, and I want words while I still know (more or less) what I’m doing. Once we leave Sactizzy, things are not nearly so straightforward. What a surprise.

All that to say that I’m taking a break in order to make something that looks like lunch (and, yes, to eat it, not just admire it).  I expect to go back to the WIP this afternoon and write a chapter.

I’m still feeling somewhat off-center, which I guess losing six pounds in three days will do for you. So! Lunch. And maybe even ice cream.

Tomorrow is book club, and I have to reschedule the appointment to get my hair cut, since there was no way I was able to keep Thursday’s appointment. And of course, there’s needlework on Tuesday evening. After that, it looks like I have a good handful of days in a row to actually bear down on the WIP, so I’m really trying to be sure that I have something to bear down on.

I also need to figure out how to take care of the garden I have, which is so low-maintenance I’m embarrassed that it’s a problem. Before my back staged its most recent drama, I had been thinking that I would go out every evening and put in a solid 15 minutes, which, so I reasoned then, wouldn’t challenge either my back or my knees. Too much. I’m going to have to re-evaluate this.

In the meanwhile, if any of my gardeners are still with me, I have a question. A blackberry bush has appeared in that same front garden, which — blackberry bushes are weeds around thisaway. I know the birds eat the berries, and I’m not unwilling to let them have at it, but! Blackberry bushes are also on a mission, as I understand the case, to take over the earth. I wish to avoid the blackberry bush fulfilling its mission in my garden. How do I contain it?

Spanish Aunts.

And! I need to go put the pieces of lunch into one plate, so I can actually eat.

How’s everybody doing so far?