from Google images
9. 22.
’14: OMGosh! It’s 5:48 a. m. Must get up and write down an idea about how to
finish a chapter of the sequel and answer a long-ago question in A Journey of
Choice. Why was Dovie such a nervous wreck the night Bird Briley threw rocks at
Liddy’s house?
9. 23.
’14: OMGosh! A Facebook video shows a huge elk herd crossing a highway, each
one jumping the fence. One remained behind. It either couldn’t or wouldn’t
jump. It tried to ream a hole in the fence large enough to scoot through. Nope.
Loped down the fence a ways, perhaps to find a weak or low spot? Nope. As the
herd moved away in single file, the left-behind animal got desperate. It ran
back to get a good start. Lo and behold, it cleared the fence and ran like a
racer. Voila!
Did
the herd wait? No. The leader didn’t know there was a laggard, a coward, a
fraidy-elk. Did its mother know, and instead of following, turn back to
encourage her child? No. No one—not one came to its aid. “Gotta be brave and do
this myself,” it might have thought. Or “Hey, there goes my sustenance. Gotta
get outta’ this trap.”
I’m a
sucker for a happy ending.
10. 2.
’14: OMGosh! Ten pages before the end of a great novel by Linda Apple (I read
both for the story AND—being in two critique groups--the nitty-gritty stuff
that’s probably the publisher’s doings), I nearly screamed. In the description
of a wedding, Pachelbel’s "Cannon in D" came into focus. Oh, no! Oh, no!
Pachelbel’s piece is a canon! I think the publisher’s auto-correct
function took over, and since there IS the word “cannon,” the spell check
function didn’t flag it. The publisher's been notified, the author said.
10.3.’14:
OMGosh! When I opened the large plastic container with last year’s autumn/
Thanksgiving stuff, I was stunned: the real gourds had molded
(dumb-da-dum-dumb) and covered all the glass and composite items, too. Yuck. As
many years as I’ve used fresh gourds in my arrangements, I should know by now
that they need airing so they will dry naturally. I DID salvage enough for a
basket full of items that I placed on the buffet.
10.3. ’14: OMGosh! As I tried to place a new (to me)
pear-motif plastic platter—a birthday “flea” from two sisters—between the
bracket-held shelves in the back hall, all heck broke loose when a bracket came
out of its housing, and the 3/8 inch plywood came tumbling down. Swiftly, I
moved my flip-flop-uncovered feet backwards as I yelled. A Niloak vase met its
broken self, as did a green glass votive holder and another ceramic vase. The mower keys were under the shelf itself.
10. 3. ’14: Scrolling through Facebook, I saw a photo that
looked like my elder daughter. Beautiful smile, nice hair, well
dressed, happy looking. I commented to the one who posted, “Is that J. B. with
you? I haven’t seen her in ages.”
Here’s a new poem:
3 a. m. t-storm
leaves my yard
full of colored leaves.”
Happy Autumn.
