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Brite and fair
Oct. 12th, 2010 08:11 pmFair weather continues, with reasonable temperatures in the daytime though it's getting a bit nippy at night. I think things got too dry for fall colors, so we only have occasional spots of bright red or orange in a drab background. Many of the oak trees are losing their leaves rapidly now.
Gary continues to peruse the shelter announcements looking for a potential dog. I know he wants a new companion badly, but I worry that he'll get his heart set on one that is offered by some group that comes out to inspect our house. Never mind our excellent references, stable location (we own our property free and clear, no mortgage,) or the fact that we've had six dogs before and three of them were golden retrievers. I just know the golden retriever rescue people will sniff and say our fences aren't good enough or the house isn't big enough. They think in terms of suburban yards with a quarter acre, rather than big pastures and woods. Of course we don't let dogs roam loose but the whole concept of our lifestyle is outside their experience for the most part. The potential disappointment this might bring is worrying me a lot.
"Ghost Writers in the Sky" display is going to be fun. Colleague Janet is brilliant at artistic presentations. I went and pulled some sample books this morning while she was designing signage and making ghosts of cheesecloth. Should have it up in a day or two, and I promise photos. Added Elliot Roosevelt to our list today, when we found that his unpublished books were still coming out eight years after he died. And I noticed that V.C. Andrews and Robert Ludlum actually have little (tm) indicators after their names on the most recent books. Their "works" are produced by corporations now.
Farrier comes tomorrow for the horses' feet. Tess needs him, as she has a big chip out of her off fore. Not hurting her, but it looks scary. I should be doing something productive, but I'm shirking while Gary is at choir practice, just waiting for him to get home so we can have dessert and then sleep. It's down time still after the flurry that was last week. Already scheduling for the Christmas bird count, Audubon meetings, and pondering a request that I lead a discussion group on writing. (Someone has an inflated notion of my status as a published writer. A couple of stories and a lot of technical articles and books do not a successful writer make.)
Gary continues to peruse the shelter announcements looking for a potential dog. I know he wants a new companion badly, but I worry that he'll get his heart set on one that is offered by some group that comes out to inspect our house. Never mind our excellent references, stable location (we own our property free and clear, no mortgage,) or the fact that we've had six dogs before and three of them were golden retrievers. I just know the golden retriever rescue people will sniff and say our fences aren't good enough or the house isn't big enough. They think in terms of suburban yards with a quarter acre, rather than big pastures and woods. Of course we don't let dogs roam loose but the whole concept of our lifestyle is outside their experience for the most part. The potential disappointment this might bring is worrying me a lot.
"Ghost Writers in the Sky" display is going to be fun. Colleague Janet is brilliant at artistic presentations. I went and pulled some sample books this morning while she was designing signage and making ghosts of cheesecloth. Should have it up in a day or two, and I promise photos. Added Elliot Roosevelt to our list today, when we found that his unpublished books were still coming out eight years after he died. And I noticed that V.C. Andrews and Robert Ludlum actually have little (tm) indicators after their names on the most recent books. Their "works" are produced by corporations now.
Farrier comes tomorrow for the horses' feet. Tess needs him, as she has a big chip out of her off fore. Not hurting her, but it looks scary. I should be doing something productive, but I'm shirking while Gary is at choir practice, just waiting for him to get home so we can have dessert and then sleep. It's down time still after the flurry that was last week. Already scheduling for the Christmas bird count, Audubon meetings, and pondering a request that I lead a discussion group on writing. (Someone has an inflated notion of my status as a published writer. A couple of stories and a lot of technical articles and books do not a successful writer make.)
