I've been rushed off my feet since my sister left on Monday. Seems like suddenly there were a hundred different chores and errands and lists that needed to be dealt with this week. But at last, today I only have four things left to do and then it's a kick back, do nothing weekend ahead. Good thing, too. All work and no play makes me cranky.
One major hurdle is finally finished: the deck work is done! Both front and back have been cleaned, sanded and stained. And with any luck at all, I won't have to do this again for a couple of years. Hopefully.
Front steps and porch/deck...and yeah, there will be wine tonight to celebrate crossing this epic achievement off the never-ending household chores list. Woo hoo!!!
I found a new place to buy my Buddhist-type stuff: incense, mala beads, flags, etc. Dharma is a shop that supports artists and crafts people in Tibet and Nepal, and helps fund the Khachoe Ghakyil Nunnery in Kathmandu where the Buddhist nuns make the most incredible incense.
I bought Rhododendron Forest, made from the trees and herbs of the high mountains around Nepal. According to those who know--and I wish I had first-hand knowledge myself--it smells like the breath of the snow-capped Himalayas. I burned a small stick this afternoon and the scent is indescribable. Truly. It's a soft, gentle fragrance; subtle and clean, like that first tang of snow in the air on a cold Winter's day. I love the exotic familiarity of it.
Also got a beautiful Nepalese bracelet that I've added to the plethora on my right wrist and a beaded mala to hang amongst the other philosophical icons on my rear view mirror in the Blazer. When it's time to replace my prayer flags, I will definitely buy them from Dharma.
I've been sadly remiss in my writing of late. I blame it on the Gates of Hell and the ferocious heat of the past two months. It's really aggravating that I haven't written a single word in the Dark Wind serial since August, although bits and pieces of conversations and thoughts are scattered across my desk on little pieces of paper. I'll be in the shower, or walking the dogs, and a scene will play in my mind. Course, if too much time goes by, I don't have a clue what I was thinking when I wrote the note!
Like this, on a torn scrap of paper:
"Men do these things because they can, Rafe, that is the way of it."
And on the back of a grocery receipt:
"You don't believe in the gods?" she asked softly.
"The gods don't believe in me."
I'm toying with expanding the serial into a long novella for NaNo this year, though I'm not sure yet if I even want to commit to the whole grueling month-long event. Still, it would get my butt planted in front of the laptop every day. On the other hand, I'm also thinking about something totally, entirely different instead: just sit down and begin writing whatever comes into my head. Forget being a pantser, this would make me a leaper...as in leaping into the abyss. It might be fun. It could be terrible.
My main issue with writing the whole month of November is that I find it exhausting--exhilarating, but totally exhausting--and then I'm usually too tired to read. Since I have numerous books stashed for the coming dark and dreary months ahead, not
Still, there's time to mull things over before I make a decision. Though, if October goes as fast as September, I'm screwed.
Time to finish my chores and get on with the weekend. I have an overflowing inbox of paperwork that needs to be filed, new pictures to hang, the blasted lawn to mow and a big window that has at least four ghost birds that need to be washed off--thankfully no bodies to dispose of--then it's freedom and books and wine and relaxing. I'm in...