L'chaim!

I found a better location in the library. Those are herbs and lettuces in a hydroponic garden. They harvest every so often. Greens going to a food co-op somewhere.

The machine makes a distant gurgling sound, like a brook. It also makes me have to get up and pee hourly. Not a bad thing.

Writing here, ten to one each day. It's going well. I know we pay taxes, but the library should put out a tip jar somewhere for the use of this beautiful place.

Jimmy's friend Donald was still a bachelor when he came to our wedding in June, 1977. He probably stopped off at a grocery store on the way to nab us a gift, a lovely Dieffenbachia which we named Louie. Through the years, I've divided it, cut it back, given away sections - over and over.

This spring I repotted it for the first time in many years. Poor thing was a mess. Way down in the bottom of the pot was this shriveled, hairy, black kernel. I wasn't even sure what it was, but I dropped it in an empty pot and used the end of the potting soil to cover it. Tucked the pot in a dark corner with the Christmas cactii.  Just the other day, I found this. L'chaim!

June 4, 1977

Charlie Monday

This is just the Best!

Looks like he's mastered the fine art of Monday.

just a little Florence here

A little wet-cloth porn for all the textilians. I hatched this one out to see what might be going on and because I have no idea when I'll be able to mess around with the rest of these.

From the looks of the weather map, we are in for a week of this damp crap.

I started early but I got caught in the light rain anyway and just kept on working. Clean-up is cut to a minimum.

waiting for the wind & rain

Setting up for a gorgeous one a day or so ahead of Hurricane Florence dragging her wet skirts over the ATL. Oh, we'll get more rain than we need at once, hopefully, not too much wind for the tired stressed out trees.

It's hot and humid as hell. I should be headed for the pool, but I'm here in the library stalling about putting the hard eyes and the sharp ax to the last half-dozen scenes of my book. Even though I wrote the closing scenes over a year ago, this revision/rewrite is coming to a close, and, although I know there will be more, the process is giving me pangs. I dawdle, I procrastinate - I've even dug up an old short story (really an excerpt from the next book) and prettied it up for submittal to a short story contest. Deadlines and restrictions. What to leave in, what to take out...(thanks Bob)

I was in Kroger, supposed to be buying batteries (I refuse to believe those are D cells in that thing!) and what did I buy instead? A dozen quart mason jars. I also found a small tub of soda ash tumbling around in the trunk of the car. What's that you say? Too busy dyeing thread and cloth to write? What could be next? Stitching? These old pictures gift me a lot of vicarious comforts. The known is sweet.

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skip Monday

Charlie Monday turned out to be just that. He had a meltdown early in the day that was beyond the crew at Pre-K so we spent the whole day together escaping the cares of the world as best we could.






This could be his anthem.