Tag: the moon at night

Some are born to greatness

The Long Back Yard:

Saturday. Late getting up. Sunny and cold.

Firefly joined me on the couch last night and went to sleep really hard so I stayed with her and finished my book. Then I got up and wandered out to my office which was so bright that I thought I must have left the light on.

But no, it was the Moon. What a beautiful, beautiful moon, and the world turned black and white.

Shadows black and magical across the snow filled yard.

I sat on the cats observation table for a while and communed with the moon, which meant I didn’t get to bed until after midnight.

And here we are.

This was dictated via my phone
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So, today I’m taking down the decorations; have a couple of errands in the afternoon. Any writing will likely be of the Sitting with the Manuscript variety. Also need to swap out the cat fountains, in anticipation of which the dishwasher is doing its thing.

How’s everybody doing this morning?
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Decorations down — I nearly forgot the window star, but remembered it when there was a box with nothing in it.

Errands run. I have a grinder on loan, thanks to the generosity of Carmela Patriotti. Ordered in dunch while I was putting the taken-down decorations away. Dishwasher emptied and now it’s time to swap out the cat fountains, after which I do believe I may collapse on the couch and avoid the news.

All that said, I’ll just say my goodnights now.

Everybody stay safe, be careful, hug the people you love.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

Today’s blog post title brought to you from the man who wrote Shakespeare’s plays, from Twelfth Night:  “Some are born to greatness, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

Firefly helped me take the tree down:

Come and take a walk with your sister, the Moon

The moon is gorgeous tonight, big and yellow.

So, now I have glass and the means to cut it, though I am strictly forbidden from doing so until next class. What I do have to do is finish cutting out my pattern and affixing the pieces to the appropriate pieces of glass so that I can begin cutting my glass next class.

Excuse me: “Seymour Glass. Do you See More Glass?” Thank you, J.D. Salinger. Honest to Ghod how long do I have to pay for that English project?

So! I’m feeling, actually, better about the glassworking after this evening’s class. Maybe because I have a better feel for how the moving parts fit together. Possibly because the instructor did not faint dead away when she saw my pattern, but said, “Oh, that’s nice, did you get that out of one of my books?” and then helped me modify that big swodge of “ocean” that some of y’all were so worried about.

I see that I’m going to have to be moving the portable radiators into The Foosball Room (so called because there was a Foosball table in that room when we looked at the house, and for a time it was a question whether or not we would be adopting), aka The Cold Room aka The Workshop, so I can cut glass (permission will apparently be given to cut glass at home eventually) without my supervisors getting paws on, not to mention glass in their fur.

For tonight, my glass and assorted Stuff is in the car. I’ll need to move it down to The Foosball Room before I head for the ocean tomorrow.

Fans of Firefly will wish to know that she is having the Zoomies. Apparently, she DID SO TELL the kids that I would be home and that I would feed them, first thing I got inside, and as this has come to pass, her stock has gone up.

That’s all I’ve got to report. The rest of my evening will be reading today’s chapter of A Night in the Lonesome October, and getting something to eat.

Everybody stay safe. Writer’s Day Off Tomorrow. I’ll check in as I can.

Oh, wait! My bats came:

Tonight’s blog post title brought to you by U2, “She Moves In Mysterious Ways“