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Author Archives: Pamela
If we had to make Thanksgiving dinner only from things I brought in from the yard, this is what we would be having. And also if Thanksgiving was several months ago.
34097 / 50000 words. 68% done!
Yesterday I made up a scene I don’t need, trying to keep up with my word count. This has happened in the past when I get caught up in word goals and it never ends well because then I waste a bunch of time trying to fit that stuff in. Usually at some point around the middle I can’t figure out where I’m going next and need to go back to the beginning and re-group before charging ahead. It happened much later than usual on this manuscript. So progress, I guess.
I intended to try to take a better matching photo but this is the closest I got.
He’s supposed to be fast growing but not as fast as I hoped. I researched about fertilizer or any other tips for things I could do but apparently making sure he had enough water in the summer and shoring him up in a leaf pile for winter is doing the best.
That reminds me, I posted a photo of the house behind us. They had to chop down their trees. The neighbor told us that Friends of Trees was going to plant new trees and gave them a bunch they could choose from. His mother-in-law was fretting about what to choose and Donny told her: They aren’t going to even look like trees while we’re around. It doesn’t matter what you pick.
I finally did a project that I’ve been putting off for awhile because I knew it would be a pain in the butt, but it was a bad project to drag my feet on because it was aimed at helping a pain in my neck.
I’ve been dealing with neck issues for awhile. I did some physical therapy and am trying to be very active at working on this. My body has gotten used to sitting with my head forward and my chin jutting out (exaggerated graphic here).
I’ve been correcting this but my computer desk at home was just a teeny bit too high so I kept slipping back into that position. If I raised my chair then my feet dangled which was also not optimal.
I finally disconnected all my technology and cleared off my computer cart and lowered the desk and keyboard one notch which already is making a difference. I think I need to do the same thing to my office computer cart, too.
Mom lost her high school yearbooks in the flood of 64. Someone came across this yearbook at a garage sale and got it for her.
I asked about the neck scarves because it looked like a Girl Scout uniform or something but Mom said that was the style and thought I was making fun of her. (I wasn’t.) Mom is second from the left, with a serious query.
This happened last weekend — it was cold enough to shrivel the garden. I managed to do some raking and digging out there but there’s plenty more if I can get back to it.
I tend to let my bras fall into ruin before I replace them and that is the stage we’re at now. I should probably suck up and go to the department store to get properly measured but that’s an easy chore to keep putting off. I found a website that promised I could answer their dozen questions and they could send me my perfect size. Then every time I opened my email there was a message sitting there with the subject line: Results for your 32D teardrop breast shape! [exclamation point in original.]
It was simultaneously hilarious and humiliating. Plus, I don’t think I’ve ever been 32. I found a more complex online measurement tool and last night while Bob was waiting for me to come for dinner, I had my shirt off and was bending in all different directions to get the measurements. At this age, gravity makes it a challenge for accuracy.
That one came back with 28DDD.
Maybe I don’t understand how bra sizes work because I’m not sure what that number even means. A barbie with torpedos? I’m going to continue wearing my rags until I can deal with the problem again. And obviously that’s going to be after the holidays.
These are my broad beans. (Mentioned previously here) Nothing happened for awhile and I found a couple were dug up so I thought I was out of luck but they’re coming in.
These dahlias are in a little warm nook in front of the house and haven’t shriveled yet.
In case you missed it, Sweetheart Braves got a terrific book review from Dear Author.
Here’s my current word count. I’m still keeping up for 50K but just barely and these next few days will be a challenge. But I said my goal was 35K and I need to stop kidding myself because I always only wanted to make the 50K. I’m hoping to get back tonight to see if I can get to 29K. But now I’m off to bake and prep for the big meal.
28419 / 50000 words. 57% done!
This happened awhile ago. Two different entities that I did business with–and actually thought very highly of both–contacted me and asked me to give them good reviews.
I think the first one had some sort of internal review system and they wanted to ensure they could count on me for the highest rating before they sent it out. The other one offered me a popular coffee place gift card if I would go online and give them the highest review.
I declined both. While I am irked about being asked for reviews anyway, the thing that really ticked me off is being asked only for the best review. This is an aspect of modern life that I loathe.
And I know, I’ve been groveling for reviews for my books although I don’t demand they have to be the best, only honest.
In the winter there are a bunch of crows downtown. When I get off the bus, it’s creepy to hear them cawing like crazy. The sidewalks are covered in crow crap. It’s cool to see them flying around though.
Did I ever write about my elder dollar?
Last year I was at the Clark College pow wow. Because of some deaths, the turn out was very small. The MC was filling the space with teaching moments. My mind is a little fuzzy but as I recall they did a blanket dance to raise money for one of the young dancers. That means you throw cash onto the blanket.
The MC explained that often the kid would give some of the money to elders to share what they received and because in our culture we honor our elders.
There was only a small group watching and Bob had wandered off to talk to someone he knew. I was sitting by myself, enjoying the community and watching the kids dance. I see the kid who did the blanket dance walking toward me and I assumed he wanted to say hello.
Nope. He came over to give me an elder dollar.
Some people aren’t cut out for public transportation. Most of them ride the express bus.
They get so anxious about when the bus is coming. They stand there staring up the street, one hand visor-ed across their brow, frowning at the oncoming traffic as if there is a prize for spotting it first.
They ask other drivers if our bus is coming.
I’ve been taking the bus for over a decade. I’ve never had a bus not come.
I get that people want to get home. I don’t love having an endless long day. But it is a bus, not a magic carpet. The driver wants to pick us up and get us where we’re going almost as badly as we do. Might as well just relax and wait until it arrives.
My favorite are the people who have to be one of the first ones on the bus. There can be people standing and waiting to board and they will just sidle right in front of everyone to get on first. (These are always the people who need to have a seat to themselves and a seat for their backpack.) Or my other favorite, they will sidle in front and then make a big deal of turning to some other person who just arrived and let them go first, I guess to counteract taking cuts.