I’m reading Light of Impossible Stars, the third novel in Gareth Powell’s Embers of War series. When I came across these sentences it hit me just how perfect they were for what we’re experiencing now. And, who knows? A month down the road these days in early April 2020 might be considered good times. Everything is relative. Look for the good when and where you can. We will survive.
Peace, people.
Nowadays any time either Studly or I have to leave the safety of Doright Manor, venturing out to buy necessities, we come home eager to display our respective discoveries.
“Look!” I said this morning while proudly displaying a six-pack of two-ply toilet tissue as if it were a first place trophy. “Last one on the shelves!”
Yesterday he came home beaming, having found two small bottles of hand sanitizer at the pharmacy. “I brought you something,” he said, holding out one petite bottle, watching for my reaction.
“Oh darling,” I said, “it’s just what I’ve always wanted!”
We rejoiced and knew that like any good modern couple we have what it takes to survive in this brave new world.
Peace, people!
Scarred and sun damaged
Blue veined, yet not delicate
These old hands still care
Freckled pale fingers
Smooth, unpolished, unshaped nails
These old hands still love
Life lines and heart lines
Have diminished over time
These old hands endure
Discover Prompts: Hands
Enforced seclusion has certainly increased our hours of television viewing here at Doright Manor. In just three days we watched the documentary, “Tiger King.” Crazy show.
Joe Exotic, aka The Tiger King, made for an interesting few days of viewing. The flamboyant openly gay Oklahoman made his career in breeding and exhibiting big cats. His business caught the attention of animal rights groups and the situation spiraled into chaos.
Studly Doright and I should’ve taken a break from dramatic tv for a few days after the final episode of “Tiger King,” I suppose, but we dove right into “Ozark”—a series revolving around a man (played by Jason Bateman) who pretty much has sold his soul to a the head of a drug cartel and now is scrambling to keep his family safe.
So last night my dreams were filled with drug smuggling tigers running from the authorities who were themselves dressed as cowboys, wearing chaps, Stetsons, and little else. Could someone please suggest a lighthearted series? My psyche needs a break.
Peace, people!
There are curves ahead
Sharp, plainly unforgiving
Attention required
Lean into the curve
Observe the rules of physics
Avoid disaster
My biggest regret
Those curves I never mastered
And now I’m too old
Lately I haven’t written anything for the blog until I’ve reached my daily goal of at least a thousand words in my novel. Today, though, I’m breaking my rule for a quick public service message.
There’s a link I found on Facebook that will help folks locate supplies in their area. Instok.org has been a godsend, and while I don’t know if it will work outside of the U.S., there’s likely something similar in your country.
Click on the link, then type in what you’re searching for, enter your zip code, and the locations where your item is in stock will be listed. It’s helped me find toilet paper twice now. Next, I’m going to look for Chris Pratt. Wouldn’t hurt to try, right,
Peace, people!
How are you? How are you coping right now? At my house, it’s just Studly Doright, Scout (our elderly cat), and me. Currently we have toilet paper and a plan in place in case that runs out. You really don’t want to know the details of that plan.
We have food enough for at least two weeks, more if we dig into our stash of things we aren’t crazy about eating, but will if we have to. I’m not sure how we manage to buy items that we think we’ll eat, but never do. Some of it is left over from the last time the grandkids visited, but most of the unwanted foods were purchased with good intentions.
Studly is working from home with lots of help from Scout, who now makes sure he’s up and ready to head to the office around 6 a.m. Her favorite thing is helping him with conference calls. She’s probably saved the company a fortune simply by adding her occasional meow to the conversations.
I’m sort of a loner anyway, so except for the fact that now 99% of my time is spent at home all day every day, nothing much has changed. Before the pandemic, I’d go on solo expeditions looking for things to use as blog fodder.
I worry about our kids and grandkids, my brothers and their families and Studly’s mom and his siblings. Worry isn’t productive, though, so I pray for them all every day, often more than once. I hope someone out there is praying for me.
Oh, and I think about all of the bloggers I follow. If I don’t see a post from the regulars fairly often I begin to fear the worst. Please post something, even if it’s just a meme or a photo or a reassuring sentence. Let me know you’re okay. Same with those who follow me. You’re important to me.
Again I ask, how are you?
Peace, and stay well, people.
I’ve been working on my novel daily, and I’m closing in on 60,000 words. I like my characters, even though they still talk way too much.
So question number one is: How much dialogue is too much? Is there a golden ratio that can be applied or should I just let them talk?
Question #2: I’m afraid I hit the story’s climax way too soon. How do I create some new tension to keep the story going, OR, should I create some additional tension before the perceived climax and delay the denouement?
Question #3: What is the meaning of life in the age of COVID-19? And is it too frivolous to be working on a novel during such a time?
I wrote a little over 1,000 words this morning and now I’m snuggled up with the cat. One moment I’m able to put the pandemic totally out of my mind, while the next moment I’m contemplating how horrible it must be to be hooked to a ventilator and that makes me need to wipe tears onto my shirt sleeve.
Please stay safe out there.
Praying for Eyebrowz 