A note to students assigned to comment on my LJ

A number of comments have been coming in today from students who were assigned to read this blog and comment on it. This is pretty cool and I appreciate it.

However, some of these comments have been fairly nasty. Now, don’t get me wrong. This is a free country and you can think or write whatever you want. But you should know this – I have set up this LJ so that anonymous comments are screened. That means that I have to read and approve of them before they can be seen by the rest of the world. I promise you this – if you write posts that are hateful or defamatory, I will not unscreen them. Save your energy. Get your own blog, if you want. If you really hate the assignment that much, then maybe you should discuss it with your teacher.

I know that sounds cranky, but my foot is killing me. I’m going to go read for a while.


Just plain ouch.

Because I’ve had malignant melanoma, doctors enjoy cutting out funny-looking spots on my skin. I don’t have a problem with this. I like being alive. It’s a habit I would like to continue for the fifty years or so. Plus, when they cut out the spots, it usually doesn’t hurt too much. Not a big deal, right?

Not a big deal until yesterday when they cut out a big spot on the bottom of my foot.

Wicked, wicked ouch. You don’t want all the details…. let’s just say that when a doctor approaches the sole of your foot with a scalpel and says the incision will only need two layers of stitches, you might want to run. I couldn’t run, of course, because by that time they had shot the foot full of novocaine and it wasn’t working very well. He sliced and diced, I bled, and then he sewed me up. I’m sure he did a great job, but ouch.

Right now it feels like a large wolf is gnawing through my foot. Walking anywhere? Hysterical laughter. My butt is parked today. Bathroom trips have to be planned out well in advance because I can travel only with crutches or on my rear end. This is good news for my revision, though. I am spending all day with the computer in my lap and my foot in the air.

The irony here? One of the characters in my WIP has an accident that leads to the bottom of her foot being sliced open, and stitches, and hobbling around of crutches. I stuck that scene in the book back in MAY, long before I knew this surgery was going to happen. That’s right sdn, my life is imitating my books…. again. Remind me not to ever make my characters have a car crash.

(In climate news, it got down to -12 degrees here last night. We’ve warmed up to a balmy 8 degrees in the sun right now.)

Snow = revisions


Snow = revisions

Snow = leaping dog

Snow = afghan

Snow = Christmas music

Snow = haunting yearning window

Snow = alive

Snow = hearth fire

Snow = mittens

Snow = revisions


I’d like to propose a modification to the calendar. I need an extra month.

We will call it Serenitember and insert it between November and December. There will be no work days in Serenitember, no school either. But this is a sacred month, devoted to the sole purpose of giving all of us the chance to get caught up on everything that we are hopelessly behind on. The anarchists will ignore the rules, of course, that’s just the way they are. But for those of us who take this type of thing seriously, here’s how it works.

Rules of Serenitember
1. We all get at least eight hours of sleep every night this month, this holy month.
2. We answer all email, all written mail, empty inboxes and balance checkbooks this month, this holy month.
3. We complete all undone job/school work this month, this holy month.
(3a. No new assignments or projects may be started!)
4. We complete all undone home projects this month, this holy month.
5. We clean everything which must be cleaned, this month, this holy month.
6. We eat and drink sensibly and we exercise like wild people, this month, this holy month, in anticipation of the feasting to come,
7. We make the time to read for fun this month, this holy month.
8. We make the time for slow dinners with family and friends, this month, this holy month.
9. We light bonfires in every town and burn away all of our Communal Guilt for the Unfinished Task, this month, this holy month,
10. On the last day of Serenitember, we dance.

What would you finish if we could create this extra month with the sweep of a wand?


A moment of silence, please.

Despite BH’s frantic, last-ditch resuscitation efforts, invocations to the gods, and a couple of swift kicks to the tires, The Plow Truck has finally died. Really died this time. Dead. Dead. Dead. If we wanted to replace the engine, and then replace the frame, steering mechanism, brakes, and exhaust, well then maybe it could be dragged out of the icy clutches of the grave. But the time has come to end its suffering.

It lived 26 years, well beyond the expected life for a Chevy quarter-ton. It plowed hundreds of tons of snow each winter, and was home to deer mice and other critters in the summer. It was a brave truck, and true. It gave us its last gasp yesterday, heroically opening up the driveway one last time, before it laid down, shuddered, and closed its eyes for good.

A memorial service will be held Friday night at 8 pm. The family has been deeply affected by this loss, so there will be no public calling hours. Donations can be made to the Oswego County Habitat for Humanity.

Image hosted by TinyPic.com Good-bye, old friend.