R.I.P. Desktop

Right now, I have the house to myself. Real Life Romance Hero and Housemate are both off at work. Storm has found a hidey-hole (work being done outside nearby.) I am pumped full of motivation from a two and a half hour video chat with one of my besties, and fueled by a particularly tasty sandwich. My posterior is planted firmly in Housemate’s office chair because my lower back has declared, rather loudly, that it absolutely requires that we either retrieve my comfy existing chair from the storage unit, or obtain a new one; Preferably pink.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Lzast night, Housemate helped me determine that Ye Olde Desktoppe, or possibly its monitor, has gone to the great AV rioom in the sky. If it’s only the monitor, that’s probably the better option of the two, because then I wil still be able to access my existant edition of Scrivener, not to mention my Sims 2 and 3 installations. If it’s the CPU, which it well may be, then it means time to shop for an all in one (is that what the kids are calling it these days?) Either way, I still have my spiffy rose gold laptop, so it doesn’t affect writing plans.

Since the desktop is now out of commission, I can use its foldng desk for the laptop, instead of the kitchen table. I have no shortage at all of notebooks and pens, which is also a good thing. I am also shopping for a laptop stand, to hold the screen at an angle my wonky eyeballs can actually see. That will be greatly appreciated. For a long time, I operated on the assumption that the challenges posed by a visual impairment meant I would have to work that much harder, if I want to prove that I really want “it.”

“It,” in this case being the only job I have wanted since I was eleven years old, reading my first ever historical romance novel under the brass bed in my parents’ guest bedroom. Not that far removed from the times when I thought the only genres I was allowed to write in were hard science fiction and mystery, neither of which interested me in the slightest, and as one might guess, I fugtured out that was a complete lie, because, well,

not historical romance, but about historical romance, so I count it

I have been reading a paper book before bed the last few nights, and I have slept a lot better than usual. This is definitely going into the mental health tracker as something I want to keep on doing, to keep on going. Books to write, blogs to plan that aren’t random stream of concsiouness blabber (unless you’re into that; if so, you have come to the right place) and videos focusing on the amazing richness of the historical romance genre, from the original Avon Ladies (and a man named Jennifer) to remind me why I got into this stuff in the first place.

It’s a quiet afternoon now, the work done early. I think I may have heard Storm crunching some dry food in the other room. Housemate will be out later than usual, as she is Laundry Person. The up side of that is that A) she will return with clean clothing for eceryone, and B) I get time and room to spread out, no distractions (but the lovely day and the breeze coming through the window, and did I mention we are basically across the street from a park?) and I feel…confident. Also a little sad.

Why sad? The desktop. I bought this desktop myself with money earned writing for the monies, aka articles for the Heroes and Heartbreakers Blog, a gig I will always treasure. I learned a lot from the years I spent there, read some amazing books, watched a bunch of TV that I would have watched anyway, and some that I never would have watched on my own, and got to recommend a bunch of my facvorite romances along the way. It was a lot of fun and I would one hundred percent to be part of another such venture in the future. Most of that happened on Ye Olde Desketoppe. Same with myfalling in love with the Sims. YOLP was not may first computer with Sims on it, but it had w, 3, and 4 in place, with a bunch of custom content for all three. My laptop has 4 only, so the others will have to wait until the next desktop arrives. I think I can last until then, because I do have other things to do.

Like this. Hang out, talk romance novels and stationery. Write romance novels. Use stationery, often to write romance novels. Which is what I will be doing as soon as I send this post off into the world. What are you up to this fine day?

join me over at my YouTube channel

Typing With Wet Paws: Freestyle Edition

Tails up ,Storm Troopers. I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. Aunt Anna is kind of busy right now, so I’m going to freestyle it this week.

Me, on a bag in a box

First of all, take a look at my sweet summer digs. I have my footlocker box, with a paper bag inside it. That’s pretty luxe from cat standards. I get a nice breeze from the bos fan, I can see both Aunt Anna and Uncle Rheuben from there, and of course I can see my dishes from here, too, in case anything is happening there.

Next thing is that we had an invader on Wednesday. Okay, Uncle Rheuben said the invader was Mr. Kurt, who is the proprety manager and was only here to fix the bathroom. The tub had stopped and wasn’t draining at all (don’t worry, I have zero interest in investigating that kind of thing) and the toilet wouldn’t quite flushing. Ever. I didn’t investigate that either. Anyway, Aunt Anna was out, writing at Panera, when Mr. Kurt came by to fix things. I don’t know exactly what all Mr. Kurt did, but the whole bathroom works now. I was under the big bed. Never can be too sure about this kind of thing.

Aunt Anna is hoping to get a bunch of reading done this weekend, because she is killing it when it comes to the Goodreads Reading Challenge. Right now, She’s still kind of wrangling her library haul, and the video is still planned, but it’s been a week. Aunt Linda had her car in the shop twice, once for the windshield wipers, and then today for the windshield.

Last night, we had a false alarm. Uncle Rheuben was working last night, and I thought I heard him coming home, so I went to the door, all excited. Unfortunately, I was wrong. It was our neighbors. They only live here on some weekends. I think they are in a different city most of the time. They have dogs, but I have never met them, even though I asked. I have heard them, though. They bark a lot. I guess they didn’t get the memo that we live here now. I mean, the people probably know, but never can tell with the dogs. There is a dog downstairs next door, too. Her name is Ada. She was a puppy when we first moved in, so she is almost grown up now. She’s still wiggly, though. I watch her (and other dogs) from the window sometimes. There are a lot of these dogs in this neighbornood.

That’s probably about it for this week. We’re all doing well here. Aunt Anna is writing. I help her read when I flop down next to her and she can use her other hand to rub my stomach. Speaking of which, I think I’m going to go see if she’s amenable to that option, because I for sure am.



Nobody Stop Me, or In The Groove

Have I ever mentioned that I have since single digit ages had a very soft spot for alternate titles. Completely unrelated to the Monkees song, “Alternate Title,” though does have some surprisingly boppy social commentary, and The Monkees are on the top of the list of music to play when I write Heather’s scenes in Queen of Hearts. I have my second scene from that written out in the notebook I have specifically for that, and all it needs is transcription and then it’s off to Melva.

Right now, I am borrowing Housemate’s office chair, with laptop on a folding desk, in front of a fan, and I am almost done with my third bottle of water for the day. The morning passed in a delicious virtual chat with my friend, Mary, whom I can’t believe I have known for almost twenty years. Doesn’t seem that long, and hasn’t she always been there/ Must be right, though, because the adorable little boy she had with her at our first meetup is now a firefighter, and, come October, will become a husband. Time does move.

Photo by Jordan Benton on Pexels.com

Yesterday, Housemate and I made a library run, to a different branch than our usual haunt, and hit the motherlode of well stocked romance section. Well, well-ish stocked. I’ll take it. I am writing a script for a library haul video after I post this blog, and will flim either tonight or tomorrow. I’m also figuring out how I want to present my current planner/notebooks situation, as I am making some changes, and they are working much better than I had expected. There’s also the reading order to suss for abovementioned library haul, and how I want to figure in ebooks as well as physical books. I have missed paper books far more than I knew, and I know my eyeballs will be thankful for the respite. from all screens all the time. This will also require major surgery on my TBR notebook, but I knew that was coming. I am not a plain paper sort of girl. Never have been.

One thing I definitely need to make time for is writer (and reader) blabber, because after three hours of happily babbling over multiple topics, including historical romance (okay, a lot of talk about historical romance) I didn’t even want to break for lunch (but I did) and instead wanted to make plans for more socializing. Not going to lie, lockdown has not been easy on us extroverts. I love my family but I need to see faces taht do not use my bathroon on a regular basis. I’m thinking about making a regular time to open the discord server or a MSM room, for a regular supply of book blather, of both writing and reading varieties. I am positively starved for historical romacne writing talk. If I had decided to officialy do Camp NaNo this month (unofficially camping this time. Maybe November.) I had decided that I wanted to find a cabin that was historical romance only. Maybe I’m early for November?

No matter. This feels like that’s what was in msy brainpan for right now, so off I go to roll around nekkid in my library haul. Kidding, kidding. I will be wearing clothing, and there may be nappage. There will definitely be many cat headbonks, and calico cuddles.

What are you reading lately?

Summer, Is That You?

Saturday afternoon, I took my first summer nap of the year. That means snoozing through the heat of the day, then being up and doing stuff in the afternoon and evening. This week, Housemate and I will brave the wilds of storage to retrieve what summer clothing remains and did not get worn to death last summer during our vagabond time. Temperatures should be in the mid 80s by the middle of this week :whimper: and friends have been posting baby waterfowl pictures, so odds that the young ones will be present in the lake in the park near our house are high.. That sounds like a morning thing.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Not this morning, as what’s left of it is dedicated to the blog, and then it’s time for domestic warrior queen side quests. I’d hoped to get more work done on the two Drama King scenes I have to revise, but I had also planned to do my weekly planning on Sunday. That did not happen because it turned into a do nothing day. I hate do nothing days. I want the day to have some purpose. Preferably with other people around. I ended up playing Sims, due to an empty tank, and then tackled the planning this morning.

Well, first wave of planning. I am totally over the vertical lined layout in my classic planner, and I am itchy to dive into my bright, shiny new July start classic planner, with its sophisticated florals and vertical layout sans lines, but we still have June to get through first. In between, for a writer who loves to plan, is madness. I’m not too concerned, though, because figuring stuff out is kind of my thing, and I will probably find something nifty to tide me through and carry over, even.

When I was a kid, summer seemed like three months of freedom (except for day camp, which probably saved my mother’s sanity, even if it was a mixed bag for me. Stay at home parents of gifted kids, we salute you.) and the one summer we lived in Pound Ridge, I discovered the joys of walking in from the scorching heat of the day into the air conditioned family room, which I liked so much that I did, upon occasion, repeat that action several times in a row merely for the delight of the difference. Delight on the air conditioned side, that is, because I am hard no on hot weather.

One of the perils of naming a heroine in a book that gets back burner-ed for an extended period of time after a season is that every time that season rolls around, her name rolls around, and that results in some serious shifty eyes between writer and manuscript.

Oddly enough, the name of said heroine is Summer, though she has nothing to do with the Zooey Deschanel movie (which I still need to see) I originally conceived of her story as a time travel, but I don’t know if it is anymore. Quite possibly, what I tried to do and then couldn’t do, was shove a ten pound cat into a two pound bag. Maybe a whole litter of cats. I have said before that I will have to write her story, because if I don’t, she will come after me and drag me back into it. She’d do it, too, so it’s on the list, though absolutely no idea what it will ultimately be. Her and her hero, that’s the core. Anything else is extra.

Insert your own ice cream topping analogy here. That seems summery enough. What’s on the docket for your week?

Typing With Wet Paws: Post-Interview Drive-by Edition

Tails up, Storm Troopers! Only a quick drive by post today, because Aunt Anna had her and Aunt Melva’s second interview with Zoomer Times. Aunt Anna says the interview was super fun, and she will share a link as soon as she has it. In the meantime, here is a super cute picture of me:

this image is of a calico cat, with orange  fur over one one eye, and black fur around the other. She is sitting up in a doorway, her expression alert and interested.
please to note my carefully tucked tail

It’s been a good writing and researching week over here, at least where Aunt Anna is concerned. I, of course, am sticking very close to her so that I can provide inspiration and support. Behind every successful writer is a cat. Usually right behind. The writers who don’t think they have cats behind them don’t know that the cats are ninjas. True story.

On the me front, I am very excited about some new boxes that have arrived in the house. Those are for Aunt Linda’s birthday, which was last Saturday. Actually, the stuff inside the boxes are for her. The boxes, though, they are mine. At least until recycling day. I still get to keep my big-big box, though, so I have no complaints.

Aunt Anna has to go out to the paper bag store, so I will have to sign off for now, but who knows, I may pop up for a special blog when you least suspect.



Writing Advice From Dream Dishes

This post is not about tableware. I have some funky dreams sometimes, and this last week, I had one of the memorable ones. Combine that with the need to unplug for a couple of days (aka why Monday’s post is here on Tuesday) which gave me the time to write privately about aforentioned dream, about blogging, and about how to get from here to there, and this post is the result.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Yes. I sleep exactly like that. Every night. Okay, not literally ,but I like the mood. Anyway, in this dream, I was personally responsible for all duties of a primary caregiver to multiple friends and family members at the same time. This included a childhood friend (whom I haven’t seen in years) who had been complicit in their own kidnapping with a charming significant other (who wasn’t that nice) and it all culminated in a kitchen full of dishes.

By full, I mean full. I don’t mean the sink was full of dirty dishes. I mean that it was overflowing the sink, the dish drainer, the counter space, the stove, the table, the chairs, every flat ?, dish upon dish upon dish upon dish. Every last dish in the house. The parent of the abovementioned friend had followed me into the kitchen, literally wringing their hands over what I was going to do about it all. There was some talking; I don’t remember it, but finally, I grabbed the closest dish at hand, turned on the tap, squirted a drop of dishwashing liquid, then grabbed my rubber duck scrubby brush. “I’m going to wash one dish,” I told them. They asked again, what was I going to do now? Once again, “I’m going to wash one dish.” Which I did.

I woke soon after that, so I don’t know how long it took to take care of everything, but the bit about washing one dish stuck. As my contemporary writing partner, Melva, asked me, what was I trying to tell myself? Not a lot of room for interpretation on that one. Which is fine. Bird By Bird, and all that. Makes sense. Low hanging fruit. Open the file. Thousand mile journeys and single steps and all that. Not exactly news, but it has parked itself at the forefront of my brain, which is not at all a bad thing.

I, personally, am highly motivated by all things stationery – pens, papers, notebooks, etc- and I love to organize. Again, not at all news. True, though, and something I can applly to the whole dish thing. Melva and I set a deadline to be done-done-done-ity-done with draft two of Drama King two weeks from yesterday. There’s also getting myself back in historical romance mode, because I feel like I’ve been circling the metaphorical airport for forever on that one, and I would like to land now, please and thank you.

Today is for this blog entry, the re-do of Melva’s and my ZoomerTimes interview re-do. I may have misnamed it previously as BoomerTimes, which in retrospect doesn’t make as much sense, since the interviews are conducted on Zoom. Prepareation for that is putting on my Actual Author cosplay garb. Hair, makeup, etc. After that, there may be a few domestic matters, possibly involving groceries, and most assuredly followed with cup of tea, a good historical romance, and kitty cuddles. That’s enough for one day.

Photo by Maria Gloss on Pexels.com



Shifting Out of Neutral

The main point I am taking from the first half of this week is that winging even a couple of days without a written plan does not work for me. Hence this being the first blog of the week. I do not have the spoons to figure out what WordPress’s beef is with me and pictures, so we will be using stock images today.

Photo by Liza Summer on Pexels.com

Very sluggish start this morning, which led to extra morning pages to figure it all out, which led to thinking of planners and a back and forth with my own brain about whether it was too late to even bother and maybe the whole week was um, useless. Obviously not, but throwing together a quick spread for the rest of the week, in the mini dashboard layout Happy Planner I will now be carrying for everyday use, made things feel anchored enough to actually shift out of neutral and get things done. I need the structure, and that is that.

Such blabber is maybe something to save for AnnaLog, which most assuredly needs more videos, so onward we go. As one may be able to guess, this is one of those blabbery posts so that I can check it off my list and move on along to getting current on a workshop on reclaiming dreams and desires. Rather on the nose with that one, but let’s face it, getting back to somewhat of a supposedly normal life after over a year of trauma is…new territory.

This past weekend, I gave my Play In Your Own Sandbox, Keep All The Toys workshop to a small but enthusiastic group at Capitol Region RWA chapter. This is my home chapter and I love them, so not only did I gegt to see some familiar faces, but with my snazzy new laptop, there were no problems with connectdions and audio and all of that good stuff. I’ll be talking more about that later, either here or on a free post on Patreon, once I get all of that stuff sorted.

Today is all about laying groundwork for the rest of the week. Not only things like washing dishes and putting away laundry, though those are indeed important, and not only “write xyz” on this day, but making sure I take time to take in media and other stimuli that will fill my creative well with what I want to draw from it. That’s not slacking off. That’s making sure I have tools I need to do the job that I am here to do.

This workshop is asking some tough questions. As my BFF said, a few days back, “Anna, meet Anna.” I think this is probably something a bunch of us are going through (with your own name there instead of mine) and there may be a learning curve in getting back to a normal that may be a different normal than one would expect.

Melva and I talked about that a lot during our last Zoom conference. There’s a lot of thinking involved, and, in my case, a lot of blabbering to myself on paper, semi zoning out while playing Sims (current laptop game is Sims 4, only lightly modded, very light on custom content, soooo…a French Vanilla game rather than plain vanilla?) and even time of sitting on the floor with paper and pens and various items of organizational alchemy.

Photo by Cristian Rojas on Pexels.com

Flying into the mist, some call it, and there are times when I think this is all I talk about here anymore. Then again, it’s what’s happening so it’s at the very least true. That’s also about what I’ve got for today, because I have homework and am burning daylight. Maybe this was meant to be the rambly post, and the next one will be more coherent. At least that’s the plan.

Cat Trees and Kneeling Chairs

Last night, I promoted the kneeling chair I have been using since the 90s from office chair to cat tree. This was a difficult decision. Somewhere deep in the storage unit, I do have a more traditional office chair, a gift from a local writer friend two moves ago. We will be digging it out, but probably not until my back stops twinge-ing, I am not sure exactly what the cause of this back pain is, but the most likely culprit is the kneeling chair.

Photo by Anthony Shkraba on Pexels.com

I still love the dratted thing. I bought it decades ago, with money I earned from working retail. I probably paid more than I should have for it, but A) it was my money, B) a favorite author/writing inspiration had that same model chair and loved it, and C) it was (and is) pretty darned cool. It is, however, old enough to own property, join the military, get married without parental consent, and drink. It has probably wanted to do exactly that over the years we have been together, and it deserves its retirement as Storm support. (Unless Storm decides she no longer wants the chair now that it is not my office chair anymore. She is a cat, after all.)

Real Life Romance Hero moved one of the kitchen chairs in to take the place of the kneeling chair. I like the straight back, and I am already feeling the change in how using the computer physically feels Back support for the win. While I do believe there is a lot of truth in the proverb that a poor workman blames his tools, I am also fully aware that having good tools does’t hurt.

That’s largely where we are in a lot of things in the Annaverse. (Is that a thing? I say it’s a thing, and I rule the Annaverse, so now it’s law.) We have been in our apartment for six months now, so half as long housed as we were unhoused, and believe me, we are insanely delighted to be able to say that. It’s time to not only put down roots, but to make sure those roots are the right roots for the lives we want to live. For me, that means embracing life as a writer of romance and romance related blabber, and making sure that I have what I need to do that job most effectively.

Thankfully, for me, that means making a lot of lists. I would take a picture of the papers and binder discs that are scattered all over the stripped bed right now (housemate is off doing mega laundry; she is a superhero) but my back says that is not an advisble move with the angles I would have to put myself. Sitting in a straight backed chair is good, though, and lying on my side in a pillow fort is good, too. Fortunately, those are both writing positions of choice. So far, so good.

Research is underway to get a new laptop PC. We have become, over the last couple of years, the laptop graveyard> I am not going to give up on the vintage MacBook Pro, but the others, well, those probably are best suited to recycling. The HP laptop with no H key, and the screen that folds all the way back when it wasn’t designed to fold back at all; the hot pink laptop that I still love but which screen won’t show anything unless I I lie flat on my back and hold the screen at an angle that is best described as three-quarters closed. This is probably a severed wire, and probably an easy fix. We will see. RLRH also has his share of laptops that have gone to that great power strip in the sky. I can’t play Sims on that one, though, and that’s become essential. Hence the research. Writing and Sims. I know my priorities.

We may also be doing some research into office chairs, and/or pick up an interim chair in case the chair in storage won’t fit in the back of Housemate’s car, and will need to wait for when we rent a van and move the “real” furniture home. Furniture comes from a variety of sources. Parents’ homes, secondhand, locally sourced, brand new, and the nebulous area of me finally deciding that the best way to incorporate the hammered copper topped coffee table my grandfather made when my dad was little is to repurpose it, maybe as a dresser topper, or maybe with a new set of legs, to serve as a dining table or desk. We will see. I know I want my secretary desk, that I have been in love with since I was about four, for my longhand pursuits, and then pick everything up and take it to a separate computer desk when it’s time to transcribe.

Storm, as always, supervises it all.

As for the writing, my plans to jump right into it this morning snagged on getting the mega laundry ready to head out, with a pause for my weekly conference with Melva. We talked about the audio complications that kept our interview from going as well as we all wanted, how an offhand joke will make a great scene for our planned Christmas collection. That will probably go into the notebook I am setting up for my collaborations with Melva, most likely in index card format. Getting stuff down in the quickest away possible and filing it away works well for me to get the thought where it belongs and letting me focus on the work I need to be doign now.

I am very much into “now” right now. What can I do now? What works best for me now? What do I need right now? What is no longer serving its purpose and needs to move on along so it doesn’t become a stumbling block? What have I put away that I really need to bring back out because I miss it and want it and it’s part of the bigger picture and always has been? There’s a lot of stuff like that.

For today, getting this blog post up, even if it’s a big blob of blather, was essential. I don’t need the guilt of a missed blog post dogging me into writing time or family life, and consistency is something I want to improve. Hence this, and also trusting myself and my words, hence stopping it here and moving along to the next thing on my list for the day.

Typing With Wet Paws: Black, White, and Orange Friday Edition

Tails up, Storm Troopers! It’s Black, White, and Orange Friday. I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws, Since it is Black, White, and Orange Friday (commonly abbreviated to Black Friday, but really it’s a day to celebrate Calicos in all of our glory) when prices are dropped in many places, that it will be easier to shower the Calicos in your life with gifts. I like gushy food, in case anyone needs a suggestion, and catnip is super fun. I also like blankets a whole lot, which works out well for me, because Aunt Linda makes blankets. How cool is that?

What is also cool is Aunt Anna rebooting her Patreon. She has learned a couple of things about Patreon, some of those being:

  1. Actually making content.
  2. Telling people about that content.

Umm, that’s pretty much it, except for the whole finding one’s niche and playing to that. So, I will do some of it for her. Here is her Patreon, and here are a couple of posts that are available for everyone, no tiers requires:

How Not To Start a Patreon

Historical Romance Setting Wishlist

If you like Aunt Anna’s posts here, want to see what books she recommends, make her find books for you (yep, she does that) or participate in polls that will help shape romance stories yet to come, drop on by and consider lending your support. Will said support get you exclusive picture of me? Chance are high, that is all I am saying.

post-Thanksgiving dinner nap

In case you are wondering how our Thanksgiving went, it was pretty fun. Aunt Anna played Sims a lot, Aunt Linda knitted, and Uncle Rheuben made the best grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch. Dinner was frozen lasagna, for reasons I am not allowed to go into, but the humans said it’s the company that counts, and they still count this as a successful Thanksgiving. They will have turkey and some pies later.

This Sim got struck by lightning. His eyes were like that for a long time.

The decorating has begun around here, but the first bit is not technically a holiday decoration, because Aunt Anna plans to leave the lights on her planner cart forever. They make her happy, so they stay. I have not been chewing on them, but I am a prime suspect in why Uncle Rheuben’s less than a year old laptop that never goes anywhere suddenly doesn’t even turn on anymore. We will be looking into that. I maintain my innocence, but I do have a track record. Eh, I’m cute.

This will be my second Christmas with these guys, but my first proper Christmas, since last year was a tricky year. I am pretty excited about it. I think I probably had a tree and stuff when I was with my first mom, but I don’t remember. I wasn’t allowed in the room where the tree was when we visited Aunt Linda’s brother, but we will be home this year, and I am definitely up to the whole experience. Aunt Anna says that today is the first day she allows herself to play her Spotify Christmas playlist. It’s umm…eclectic, that’s all I am going to say, and it does start with a Thanksgiving song, so maybe she can bump that date back a day for next year. She does want to listen to more music these days, so this should be a big help. Do you have any favorite songs think she might like?

It’s also Time To Start Reading Christmas Romances. I will let her tell you about that later. I think that’s about it for right now. so I will let Aunt Anna have her computer back.


Welcome Back, in Duck

For the past few days, depression has been kicking my butt. Consulting docs, and looking at environmental measures to get things on an even keel. Not quite ready to put up the Christmas tree –it will be our first proper Christmas with Storm, which, for all we know, may be indicative of her typical interaction with holiday decorations.– but I have a twenty foot string of white fairy lights ready to drape around the window in our bedroom. There are the dregs of a jar candle warming on the candle/mug warmer in the kitchen. The external microphone/speaker for my computer has a mood light, which is fun, and I am back to walking around the lake in the park, which is, conveniently, one block away from our home.

We are actually a little closer to the park now than we were in our first Albany apartment, which I like very much, and I have figured out that the best way to get around the issue of glasses fogging to 100% opaque white while wearing glasses and mask at the same time, is to…take off the glasses and stash them in the pocket of my puffy coat. The path around the lake is a complete loop, with water on one side, an up=slanting hill on the other, so wandering to one side is really not possible, and it’s foot traffic only, no vehicles, so no risk of getting flattened, except from the big gander, but that’s an occupational hazard. He hates everybody.

Photo by Brandon Montrone on Pexels.com

While it’s still above freezing, I can take a notebook to the park and ensconce myself on one of the lakeside benches and get some rough stuff written. My first time out this month, I came back with two scenes. While I was doing my thing, one of the mallard females broke away from the bunch, paddled up to me, quacked at me, and paddled on back. I take that to be “welcome back,” in Duck. As for the Canada Geese, I walked through a bunch of them yesterday and they did not kill me, so that must be the goose equivalent (and thank you to the nice person who was feeding/distracting them.) The chance fo meeting friendly dogs is quite high, which only recommends these walks, and if I can time things close enough to sunset, I get to see the holiday lights in tke park as I go.

On the one hand, I knew full well how much I had missed my park walks, but on the other hand, I didn’t know exactly how much. Similarly, I did not know how much me-er I would feel when sticking a whopping three paper books in the bookshelf that now holds my planner supplies. There will be more, but we have not yet gotten to the back part of the storage unit, where they have been resting for nigh on two years now. Feels like forever, and only a minute ago. I actually like that. The books were the first thing I packed when we decided to leave that apartment, and they may well be one of the last things unpacked. They will be very much welcomed.

The fact that Thanksgiving is soon to be upon us is unreal, but there is lots to be thankful for this year. We will probably get takeout (non-turkey) from a local place, sprawl out in our pajamas, and there may or may not be Netflix involved. There will almost certainly be a walk in the park, even if I am the only one who goes, but there is also the family tradition of going around to look at lights after Thanksgiving dinner that we may observe, and there is the whole matter of the Christmas tree. We know where ours is, and all of the ornaments are unbreakable, so Storm can do her worst.

Rambly post today, more to get something up than anything else, before I dive back into Drama King, which is rapidly nearing its HEA at long last.

How’s your week?