today is a perfect snow day. I was to set off at 6:15 AM as I do every second Wednesday to take care of my darlingest grandson, Sawyer. But in the frozen world we have come to inhabit the county they live in declared a snow day. The one I live in did not so my step-children are at school. Leaving me to write. Not my blog you understand but to get a good chunk done on The Rock Walker - a mystery I am writing. But instead I am futsing about. First I had to clear up the misunderstanding my one and I had last evening. Then we had to consider what other forms of communication needed addressing but decided to postpone that - after all we have no kids, no surly teens until three or so - lots of time. Then I had to make a nice big pot of oatmeal for John and the girls. I threw in lots of squash seeds and carrot scrapings and old grapes. They were about to revolt when I opened their door but gave up the rush for freedom for the yummy oatmeal. Good thing because if they had dashed through the door they would have skidded on the absolutely nothing but shiny crusted snow til they schmucked into the fence or something worse. Chicken icecapades! woot woot!
The next issue was the dishes and the need to have a pristine kitchen which comes over me when I have time to write. I should perhaps start another hat only having six or seven awaiting heads now.
I need a lovely jailor with a electric cattle prod.
I'm going to go now and write. Well not go anywhere you understand - sit here and write and not move until I've got one to two thousand words done. Not walk the dog. Not play on-line scrabble, not check the harlot. write.
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