Friday, November 1, 2013


I was thinking about the 52s this morning--what to do, where to go--when it occurred to me that I already had my adventure, and had even posted a comment that I should have used the experience for this week's escapade.

And you know what?  It's my blog, it's my year-long quest, I can do what I I turned my Tuesday lunch into Week 44.  It was the perfect decision, on several levels, not the least being how much fun I had with two such interesting and amazing women.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
NaNo starts today.  For the first time in a long while, I'm not participating.  However, I'm toying with the idea that I could pretend to be doing NaNo, exert major self-discipline and finish the serial this month instead.  I'd like to tie things up on Library of Souls, and move on to the next story, though I really don't have anything in mind at the moment.  Possibly because I'm still too involved with the usual suspects.  Or I'm a one-plot woman...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I took a cool photo yesterday that I posted on Shot of the Week.  It was one of those odd moments when you notice something for the first time, and yet it's always been there.  It's a weird brain warp thing, because it's totally obvious the door has been that vibrant color for ages.  Why did I just notice it, and on Hallowe'en, of all days?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It's not often new people move onto the mountain.  There are only 18 houses up here, spread across the ridge, and no one ever seems to leave (though I tried last year, to no avail and the crap real estate market).  Earlier this Summer, the first house on the road--a much neglected and semi-abandoned place--was sold to a pair of doctors from Florida.  They have spent the better part of five months remodeling.  Along with everyone else up here, I got an invitation to their Open House party tomorrow.  If I don't go, it will seem rude and unneighborly, but here's the thing: I don't like flying solo to events where everyone is paired off.  I'm the only singleton on the bloody mountain. 

Still.  I will force myself to go.  I will chat with the few folks I actually know and maybe talk to some I don't.  I will smile and have a drink and hopefully enjoy myself, even though I'll no doubt feel like the proverbial redheaded stepchild.  Ah well, it builds character...right?

Uh huh.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Time changes this weekend.  I am a huge proponent of leaving time alone.  Once I even contemplated moving to Arizona where they don't act like jack asses rabbits springing forward or jumping back.  

In a meager attempt to offset the irritation caused by the morons who still think this is a good idea, I change my clocks on Saturday afternoon with the slight hope I can forget the whole thing by the time I go to bed. 

And I'm convinced this would be a great plan...if I didn't have dogs who can't tell time.


  1. There is no way you could be a redheaded stepchild. After all, you're blond. I've seen the photographs to prove it. Go get 'em, tiger!

    1. Maybe my roots belong to a redhead...;D

      I'll be okay, it's just that first bit where you walk in and don't know anyone and people stare. Eeww. On second thought, maybe I won't go after all...