For friends, relatives, neighbors who are in the dark. NaNoWriMo is the short, catchy and unpronounceable version of National Novel Writing Month.
This happens every November, when thousands of people actually sign up to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. This year, I am one of those crazy people. So for a couple of weeks you won’t hear much from Sybal’s Front Door. I am wearing my typing fingers to the bone.
Here is the good news. The novel has to be 50,000 words. It doesn’t have to be good. It doesn’t have to be coherent. It doesn’t have to be grammatically correct. Words don’t have to be spelled correctly.
Not one person reading this will EVER be asked to read this novel. Don’t bother to ask because no one will EVER get a chance to read this novel.
Will it be a clue for you if I tell you I am changing the title to “Watching Paint Dry on the Barn Door.?”
Something I wrote on day 187 was quoted on another website this week as advice to someone who just hit 9 months and is having that sloggish feeling. You know the one. Some of the difficulty of getting sober has worn off, but so has some of the novelty. You haven’t gotten that pony you wanted yet–and worse, you suspect you may never get your pony, and even worse than that, you suspect there isno pony. So there you are: sober, bored, awkward, and horseless.
I’d feel lousy under those circumstances, too. I did, in fact, which is why I clung to the idea in that post: that sobriety accumulates, even if it doesn’t always feel that way in the moment. That if I could just make it through the grayness of those days, they’d add up to something.
That was 853 days ago. In those 853 days I’ve upgraded…
Happy Birthday to me! Saturday at two o’clock in the afternoon, I entered the seventh decade of my life. Seven decades doesn’t sound quite as long as its equivalent stated in years. As I have been saying to friends and relatives, I don’t know how in Hades I arrived here so soon. It only seems like ten years since I graduated from high school.
Here I am once AGAIN asking myself “what’s next.?” What am I going to be when I grow up. Dang it! I thought that I would have all the answers by the time I was forty. That certainly didn’t work out so well. Maybe I was asking the wrong questions.
For the past six weeks, I have been tinkering around with life. I have habits that need changing: replacing old one with ones that I like better. Such as drinking a pint of whiskey every night before I go to bed, and flossing every day.
One thing for sure is that I like learning new things. It’s really fun learning to use Adobe software. It’s amazing stuff, but it’s a challenge to learn. It’s one thing using the tutorials, its another to really use what I’ve learned to create something. From time to time my forehead is bruised from beating my against the wall. For those of you who check out my Facebook page, that’s why I change my header picture every month: practice with Adobe Illustrator.
I just caught myself starting to expound on my current philosophy of life, but I’ll save it for next week – or for never.
I spent the weekend as nanny and companion to a small bird: a conure by trade and Piper by name. In case you know as little about birds as I do, here’s the skinny.” Conures are a diverse, loosely defined group of long- tailed New World parrots.”
The folk who bring us WordPress published a recommendation urging we remind friends and relatives to VOTE! Election Day looms. Personally speaking, I hate going to the polls so I vote by absentee ballot and have been doing so for years. It’s worth the price of postage.
Holding a mug of strong, hot, black coffee. Wearing my rainy weather sweatshirt. Where’s the rain??
Yesterday the forecast was 80% chance of rain. I scurried around stowing outdoor furniture away from the damp. What’s outside my window? Fog and mist…fog and mist rapidly thinning into sunshine. On the weather radar it’s green all around, leaving Petaluma high and dry.
September has been hot; consistently in the high eighties and nineties. The fleas are dancing, prancing and reproducing. Pet owners are complaining. Flea medicine is flying off the shelves. So far they have stayed off of Sassy. For several years, I have used Advantage II on her. She has never had a bad reaction to it, but I am dubious about the safety of chemicals.
My sister suggested an anti-flea formula made from a variety of herbal oils. It’s a great formula and it smells good to my nose. The bad news is that it contains just about every odor that is anathema to cats. No hope at all for getting enough of the stuff on her to do any good at all. So it’s back to the tried and true chemicals.
FREE!! Three tubes of mixed herbal oils with overpowering strong scent. Great for outhouses and fish markets!