Snapped

It's snowing. Again. MAKE IT STOP! TOMORROW IS MARCH! MY PARENTS ARE GARDENING! STOP SNOWING!

One more winter to get through here. <whimper> Just one more.

Daydreaming

I wrote 2024 words yesterday and hit 35K. Shoelace is in a fun stage. Have I been trying to write scenes that aren't enough fun? Hard to say. I'm in that interesting place where I can tell that what I’m writing is bad (or at least not what I want), but I can't tell what to do to fix it. For now, I'm forging ahead. Eric has been very good about, when I complain aloud that my writing sucks, saying either, "No it doesn't," or "We'll fix it later, shut up and write." I love how he says "we." I can imagine this story being a good one; I hope I can do the work to get it there. And yes, I can use his help.

I also shoveled snow with Eric, designed that Celtic cable and realized that it doesn't look right with this yarn, planted the blanket flower, and realized that our floors are filthy. I didn't used to be this bad a housekeeper. (I used to have half this square footage, too.) Sigh. Today, I came in to find leftover bagels and pastries on my desk and demanded to know whether my department had had a party to celebrate my being gone. They didn't; most of them were gone too. Yesterday we had loads of requests, naturally; today, not so much, so we're all slowly getting caught up. I'm daydreaming a bit more than I ought, but I think I can afford it.

Fuzzy-sock day

It is a fuzzy-sock day. This means: I'm staying home from work today. It's a level 2 snow emergency, and the snow is still coming down, and I have two floating holidays and the excuse of being from the Pacific Northwest. Work's been slow anyway and I have remote access, so I don't expect it to be an issue. Too bad there's no policy at work allowing me to take sick time instead, though. I haven't taken a sick day since I started there.

Today is a perfect day to get caught up on Shoelace. Last week my goal was 35K, but I didn't hit it. Today, however, why not? WOW isn't available and shoveling snow only lasts so long (and we don't even have milk for hot chocolate; even my soy milk is gone). I'm also going to ponder my one type of broccoli not coming up and see if I can figure out how to do a Celtic knot pattern for a hat I want to knit from some homespun. It'll be a nice, fuzzy, inside kind of day.

Eclipsed

I saw the lunar eclipse last night. The moon really does go red at totality. It was beautiful. I thought briefly about trying to take a picture, but we've done that before and it just doesn't come out well. And we're not photography hobbyists enough to buy a camera that will handle it, so I guess there will be no eclipse pictures from us, ever.

Yesterday Eric had class and then a networking thing to go to (dozens of science teachers gathering together and swapping ideas: scaaary stuff), so I planned to stay in, cook something yummy, get some stuff done. Which I proceeded to completely not do by getting sucked into my old journal entries from 2005. Not that it's brilliant writing, but that was such an eventful time, at least inside my own head, which is what was on the paper; and at about eight-thirty Eric came home and I realized I hadn't even eaten dinner, let alone done anything else I had planned. Tonight, however, is empty, and I brought a bohemian lunch today (rustic bread, cheese, and fruit) because there was nothing else to bring (since I have eschewed the way of the peanut butter sandwich except when going to Cedar Point) so I'd better cook something tonight (can't think what should go in these parentheses but the sentence structure seems to demand it).

The weekend is almost upon us, again, already, which makes me happy. But I don't like wishing my life away. However, that's how it is, at least right now. Saturday will be busy: I have the Toledo Seed Swap to go to, Eric has BASHcon (gaming convention), and then we both have the symphony that night. Sunday I expect to spend in a lot of sloth. And then the next weekend, I can start some more seeds. When I feel I'm wishing my life away, I don't know whether I’m waiting for the next stage of my life (retirement?) or just waiting for spring.

On the hunt

Shoelace is at just over 32K. I love that I'm finally getting days where I just want to keep working on it and working on it. Even if it's dreck. And it is; it's monumentally lousy prose except for a few rare bits. But that's okay. This is only draft one, and I'm still getting back into the swing of things.

Let's try this again.

Why is this novel so much harder to write than the last one? I ask you. I'm up to about 30K, one of the two main characters is in prison, the other might as well be, but I'm finding it hard going and hating my own writing.

More baking this weekend: rye sandwich bread, olive sourdough, cookies, cinnamon rolls. The cinnamon rolls are wicked. I put in about two and a half times the amount of cinnamon called for, and it's too much, but not by a lot. I'll try them again when we've recovered from the cinnamon overload, but I think I'm close to adopting another recipe.

We'll see about the posting. I'm enjoying the garden blog, and thinking about looking for nonfiction work. Thinking in general. And feeling inclined to act, at least some of the time, which is excellent. We shall see where it leads.

More rye bread (I forgot about it during the second rise and had to refold it and give it a third rise, but it seems to be okay) and sourdough and a sourdough olive bread that tastes exactly like the one Mom used to buy for me. I adore it. The only problem is that I didn't make enough.

So yeah. More bread. Writing is coming along, at least some, work's doing, etc. I'm less and less inclined to write here anymore. It's not the blogging thing in general; I'm still doing well with the garden blog. I don't know what it is.

Bread success

My rye bread search may be at an end. I tried a new recipe I found, appropriately named Eric's Rye, on Eric yesterday. He said it was pretty good; a little too chewy, but nice taste. Today he said it was great. (I looked it up later...apparently rye always tastes better the next day.) Still a little chewy, but I can fix that, and he may for the first time have a rye bread he really likes for his sandwiches. With a good rye, I may not have to work on the wheat-flaxseed sandwich bread...though I will. I'm working my way through the failed sandwich sourdough; once it's done, I can make something else good, like tomato-basil sourdough or olive bread. I love my new hobby. "Thank you for being an awesome baker," Eric said to me today. (I also made chocolate-chip cookies.)