How I Wasted Time This Weekend

I installed the outside solstice decorations, and helped my neighbor install his. His side of the road is "inflatable seasons" and my side is "pastoral deer park."

I need to relamp one deer. After patching three wire breaks the head still wouldn't light. Tomorrow we'll see about upgrading to LED bulbs. I mean it needs all new lights for the head at least.

We also put up the new tree. My it's a biggin. Nine feet tall, and call me crazy, even though it was pre-lit I added lights to the center. You can almost read by the light it throws.

I also did tickets for the Ruritans, and invoices for the past month (it was a busy month for design work).

All that says that I procrastinated on writing as much as possible. I did get about 400 more words on the Pirate Story done. This week looks to be busy as well, so I'll have plenty of opportunity for procrastination.

Frost on the Pumpkin

This morning I was running a little late to work so I was able to see the sun rise. In the twilight of the pre-dawn I was driving by some fallow fields iced in hoar frost. The full seed heads of grasses sparkled in the blue light, dull earth colors encased in gem ice, trees sporting new crystalline coats reflecting headlights. It was beautiful. In my head I heard the harp section from Tchaikovsky's "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies." Happy Thanksgiving.

Also, it's my brother's B-day (happy happy), and my wedding Anniversary (Happy Happy).

A Dilbert Moment

It was bound to happen at sometime. First, some background. I'm a freak. I happen to like mathematics. I relax by doing formula in my head. Yeah, it's weird inside there, deal.

I like to make change not so much challenging, but I strive to make my life simpler and my pockets less jangely, so I don't feel like my grandpa, whom always had change in his pockets. So when I was at a gas station today, and the bill came to $8.60 (Giant Eagle Gitgo, had $1.20 off, yes I waited until I had at least 8 gallons to pump). I went in a gave the clerk $20.10, thinking I'd trade up from a dime to two quarters; instead of having my dime, plus a quarter, extra dime and nickel. The clerk punches in the number on his digital register and gets a look of astonishment on his face. Don't say it, I think hard at him.

"How did you know it would come to $11.50?" he asked.

"Mathematics," I replied after a second, trying to keep from screaming. I see that this answer on confuses the clerk. "I used to make change before these new fangled digital thingies were around," I continue, and that seems to satisfy him.

I had to leave before I laughed out loud.

Your Theme Song May Vary

Yey another line I need to use in the book.

Most people believe that their theme song (leitmotif) would be Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man," when more often than not it actually would be "Yakety Sax" by Boots Randolph.

This goes with my saying, "Sometimes the movie isn't about you. Sometimes you're the supporting cast, or the comic relief, but mostly we're all extras."

Story Bone

"Can I do that? Sure, but I figured you you wanted to live through this."

Say what?

Last night somebody tried to hack my blogger account. Go figure. I'm assuming it's because of my other blog which is more political, although less frequently updated.

I'm avoiding doing work. Why is this a writer's common complaint? Is it because there are so many shiny things in the world to go look at? Or just because we don't want to do the voodoo that we do somewhat well?

If you want to see how it should be done, John Sclazi just posted a fragment of his new story over at the Whatever. That's what we all feel like. If this isn't a definition of writer's block, it should be. Of course it is what I expect will be the opener of his novella "The Sagan Diaries." How that story comes about is in iteself a big story. Read the Whatever and you'll see what I mean.

So back to the grind. Today I get to help put up the Holiday Decorations for the Village (yeah, hard work!). I've already sorted applications for our Streets Dept. opening. Then I get to read all the financial statements to be up to speed for our meeting next week. There's two forms to fill out. And cleaning, the never ending struggle.

Here's another fragment from some story someplace in the future, "The room smelled too much of old farts and drying socks."

One of those things that will also be worked in someplace

Restaurants in Japan are switching to plastic chopsticks over the usual wooden ones. Most customers are now finding out that the food tastes worse. My thought was that the taste they liked was the wood.

What People Do for Money?

Okay, this gets filed under the "Weird Professions that I have to use in a story," there are professional Rock, Paper, Scissors players. Put those up there with professional skateboarders (which I can kind of understand), professional fast eaters, and professional video game players. If people are getting money for that, just how hard can professional writing be? Oh, yeah, never mind.

In the dark, with the goblins

Just getting over some intestinal nastiness that lasted a week. This getting old is a bummer. I haven't been writing. Sigh. Oh, before I forget, this is how submission guidelines should be written. Yep, got an idea, need to get over killing a few thousand people, but I will, and I will submit. I mean I'll send it in. Yeah, that's what I mean.

Anyway, I'm redlining "Wild Hunt" (which will change titles) with all the feedback. I want to have it back out in submission (maybe Lady Churchill's) by Thanksgiving.

There's lot of work needed for the village. I'm really thinking of not running next year. Yes, there's a pay bump for those elected next time, but I want my life back. I like being in the know about things, but I'm exhausted of it.