I burned myself on a saucepan this morning making monkey bread.

( Burny. )

Have a safe weekend.

Email I didn't just send, only slightly gussied up for purposes of self-satire:

"Dear Lovely Agent,

I think I just figured out a way to address three of your major concerns over the novel in one fell swoop, but I think that's going to require me to add a couple more pages within the first three chapters of the novel (i.e., increasing the amount of time before my Rilly Cool Antagonist is introduced). But it's going to ratchet up the tension pretty good, so I was wondering, is that quote-unquote padding going to be okay?"

At least I realized how stupid the question was before I sent it.

Of course, then I went and posted it on the internet.

Did I ever tell you guys about the time Dann and I drove through Death Valley, and I was so paranoid about shriveling up into Folger's crystals without realizing it that I drank like a gallon of water before we got halfway into the valley, and I had to make Dann stop and let me pee by the side of the road?

Today was a little like that. I was so ready to be Alberta Clipperized that on my way to the car, I had to stop and take off some of my layers so I could breathe. I was sweating too much under my neck warmer and ear warmer and hood and down and wool and everything.

And I was so worried that I was underprepared....

The power went out at 3:59.

"Crap," I said. "It's an hour to sunset. What then?"

My husband decided avoid this question by taking a nap.

I decided to clean kerosene lamps, shower while the water was still hot and there was enough light coming into the bathroom to shower by, dig out candles, and see if I could light the oven without power. (Answer: no, but I didn't try very hard. Stove, yes, however. Verdict: pilotless gas range is annoying in a power outage.)

As I was fiddling with the lamp next to the bed, my husband muttered, "THIS is the thing you're the ant about."

I read until sunlight failed me, and listened to audio books as long as I could stand staring at nothing while doing so. In other words, I filled about ten of the remaining twenty minutes of daylight.

I crawled into bed next to my husband at 5:00. "I'm bored, so you get me."

Heavy sighs from him and the cats I displaced.

At 5:03 the power came back on. "Seven minutes 'til sunset!" Dann said.

I bounced out of bed. "My life has meaning again!"

~fin~

...somehow, during my shower, which was a strange hoppy dance of "use the poison ivy scrub without actually touching yourself, just in case" I managed to lift the handset off the shower thingie and turn my head in such a way as to aim a good half-gallon of water directly into my ear canal.

Of the ear with the Eustachian tube disruption.

Not that my eardrum is permeable or anything. It's just. Now there's water sounds on BOTH sides of it.

OY.

Ah, the Long Weekend. What a fine institution. ( In which we install a dock, assault some poor woman's popcorn, and go swimming in 65 degree water. )

My homemade eggnog came out... chunky. And stinking of sulphur.

Gotta remember to throw that out tomorrow.

Happy holiday of your choice.

I tried to make my own fun this morning.

Instead, I made a mess.

Here is the predator:




Here is her prey, the innocent violets:




Gearing up for an attack:




The hunt is successful:




Displaying the kill:




The kill site:




The aftermath was bloody. As the candied violets lay there, not drying, I began to wonder where I went wrong. Dann asked, "Are you sure you followed the directions?" Well, sure, I had followed them. I hadn't printed them out, or anything, but I had followed them... sort of...

Only 1 in 5 lion-hunts are successful. I don't feel so bad. Tomorrow is another day.