Bear has put a rawhide chew under the sofa. This might seem like a problem to you (and to Bear) but to me it’s great. She’s going to spend part of the morning attempting to get that thing and succeeding only in pushing it farther back. Or, as has just happened, she’ll succeed in figuring it out and get the chew.
Yesterday I took the dogs for a long walk in the beautiful light surrounded by white peaks. There was a rock or a thorn or nothing in my shoe and one of my toes hurt mightily. I stopped a couple of times and attempted to fix that, but didn’t find a solution. When I got home, and took off my hiking shoes, I saw my sock was all bloody. I thought about how cool it was that blood dries and forms a nice friction barrier between my toe and whatever. I thought of All Quiet on the Western Front and I thought I’d better wash my foot and see if I could find the injury. I didn’t find the injury. I think it is/was a blister between my 3rd and 4th toe that opened…
This post (above) is out where I was walking yesterday. I think it’s amazing. The old wooden gate itself is on the ground. Next time I’ll take a photo of the latch that once went into one of these horse shoes. It’s been replaced by a steel gate that is always open even though, this past summer, someone strung electric fencing. The thing about hiking/walking in the same place every day is your eyes get tuned to details, and you start seeing things you hadn’t seen before.
A week from today I’m giving my first ever reading from one of my books. I spent time this week writing a short introduction to the book and the reading and yesterday I recorded and timed it. It’s about 7 minutes. I’d like it to be shorter, but I might not be able to manage that. At least the chapter I’m reading isn’t very long.
Never having done this before, it’s difficult to know what exactly I should read. I decided to read the chapter that was the first one I wrote — and it’s NOT the beginning of the novel. I began the book with two words, “Andreas, RUN!” I could see that scene in my mind like a film. The book grew in two directions from that point. It’s also a pretty exciting chapter and it’s rich in history.
I’ve never even GONE to a reading — well, poetry readings, back in the day when I thought I was a poet, but never a reading someone gives from their novel, so it will be different. AND I have brochures, bookmarks and a pen that writes.
Now, what to wear? I’m thinking clean jeans, denim shirt and the Icelandic sweater I bought last summer. It’s beautiful, and I’ll be more nervous if I’m dressed up. It will also remind me of Iceland.
AND now that Thanksgiving is over, and this is so called “Black Friday” (where did that come from?) our culture says we have to start buying stuff. I wonder why no one (but me?) thinks that we could change our world quickly if we just stopped buying all the crap we buy. I get catalogs (that in itself is a problem) full of stuff, beautiful stuff, that costs a lot more than I can afford and apparently I’m doing pretty well as Medicare refused “extra help” on the drug part of the program so I’m going to be out another $107/month starting next year. And that is Medicare making me pay $1000+/year that I never had to pay before. This is AFTER I paid some $600+/month for 20 years into health insurance for my retirement…
Christmas lasts a long time in my small town. It’s the season of craft shows.The first Christmas craft fair was the first weekend of November. I went because my neighbor is a big contributor to that one, and I bought almost everyone on my list a warm hat made by her two small, arthritic hands. Her prices are ridiculously low and any hats that are not sold she takes to the pre-school for kids who don’t have warm hats.
Next week we have our Christmas Festival which includes a parade (that lasts about 5 minutes), a craft fair and a concert of cowboy music in the auditorium. Last year I did everything and by the time Christmas itself arrived, I was completely sated and sick of the whole thing.
This year I’m going to take it a little easier. Besides, it looks like this December I’m a famous writer. Not only am I doing a reading next weekend, but the following weekend I’m attending a reception for people whose work was accepted into the Alamosa library’s literary magazine. There are also prizes and who knows? Maybe I won something.
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