Pedaling Off

I hope you'll excuse me while I pedal off for a bit. Nothing wrong--I just need a little time to myself, is all.

I hope you enjoy these chilly evenings and blustery days. I plan to do some forest hiking, lots of reading and indulging in maybe one or two more hot toddies than is absolutely necessary to ward off the cool-ish nights. But then, who's to say exactly how many hot toddies is too many?

Anyhow, I just need a break. Be back soon. Until then, I wish you peace. Lots and lots of it.

Just Another Day

Oh, yeah, I'm back home. The lunacy continues here in the middle of nowhere.

A moment from yesterday morning? Sure, I'll share that with you.

Hold on tight to your coffee mugs, friends. And, don't say I didn't warn you.

It snowed here. And was still snowing yesterday morning while I was in the hot tub, which is in its own little building. Private. Peaceful. All good.

Yesterday when I went to the hot tub I grabbed a pair of jeans and sweatshirt off the pile of folded laundry as I passed. Divine intervention, I think. Anyhow, I had more than just my short blue robe with me when I headed out.

Good thing, that.

So there I am. Drinking coffee. Watching steam rise off the water. Plotting the day's chapters in my mind.

The roar of an engine breaks into my peaceful time. I hear noise. The doorbell on the house rings. Me? I hunker down in the water and hold my breath. Then, heavy footsteps on the deck. A knock on the door.

Crap.

"Yes?"

"Fed Ex, ma'am. Package for you."

"Uh, could you just leave it by the door? Thanks."

"I need a signature, ma'am."

Double crap.

Climbing from the water, dripping everywhere, I manage, "Ah, sure. Just...one....minute, okay?"

"Take your time, ma'am." I hear the laughter in his voice.

Of course, I'm glad I've got real clothes and tug the sweatshirt over my head. I jump into the jeans, wiggling my wet body into the dry denim. Not easy, take my word for it. Finally the jeans are up all the way.

Backwards.

Oh yes, I did. I put those jeans on backwards.

So I did what anyone would do. I pulled that sweatshirt down as far as I could, attempted a calm demeanor and opened the door. Signed the slip. Thanked the guy. Took the package.

But I know he saw my pants were on backwards. He totally saw it.

Yeah, I need another MHB. Bad.

MHB

Mental health break.

More commonly known as R&R. That's right, I needed a little rest and relaxation.
A change of scenery. A few days away.

So that's what I did. I packed a small bag and checked into a hotel. Just me, myself and I. Oh, and the book. Authors never really are alone, are we? There's always the wip and its cast of characters to accompany us.

How was my MHB? Oh, it was amazing! I didn't go anywhere extraordinary. Didn't go sightseeing. Didn't take a helicopter ride.

No, I spent my time much more meaningfully. And oh, so relaxing.

Visiting with dear friends, who completely took it in stride when I jumped at the chance to crash their dinner. Thank you, Gary and Kelley! I love you both!

Strolling without a destination in mind and poking around in shops. Getting a haircut. Going to Mass. Watching football. All low-key. All good.

And the book. I've got to tell you, writing in a hotel room without phones, Fed Ex men, doorbells and the rest of it was heavenly. I just wrote without considering anything but the story, and of course the writing was effortless.

Yesterday, back in the land of real life with its interruptions and annoyances, I regretted leaving sanctuary of that hotel room so quickly. Writing with doorbells, phones, Fed Ex men, laundry buzzers and zealous neighbors can be frustrating. I managed, but honestly I considered packing my bag and running off again!

So that's what I've been up to. What about you? What's new in your world this snowy Thursday morning? Hmm?

Zombie Fare

Totally on the run this morning. I have a date with a zombie! Yes, the book is keeping me occupied and I'm actually having fun writing this story.

Big question of the week? What to feed the hunky zombie. I won't divulge, but let's just say all the "suggestions" cracked me up. This book is absolutely keeping my mind occupied. Mission accomplished.

What about you? What's on your to-do list for this chilly Friday?

Wishing you a peaceful, zombie-free day.

Nailed

Picture it. One woman. Two men. A search.

That's right. A look-everywhere, are-you-sure-this-isn't-it?, tip-to-toe search. A rescue mission, of sorts, as she hopes to retrieve box of nails. High hopes, because windy conditions tore loose a trim edge on barn which now needs--you guess it--a few nails to resecure trim piece.

So...

"Here you go, sweetie. And I didn't even use any of them for my project."

Glance at box in hand. "Thanks, but these aren't my nails."

Puzzled. "You sure?"

Handing back box. "Uh huh. These are coated trim nails. Not mine. Actually more expensive than the ones I gave you."

"What did you give me?"

"Four penny nails."

"Huh?"

"A box of four penny nails. That's what I gave you."

"Come inside. Let's look."

View boxes of screws, nails and assorted fasteners set out on top of pool table.

"What does a four penny nail look like? Is it this?"

Hands over a box.

A head shake. "Nope. They're galvanized screws."

"Okay. But what does this four cent nail look like?"

Shifting boxes, an answer. "Not four cent--four penny. And they're just one-and-a-half-inch commons."

Blank stare. Second man joins search party.

"Hey, did you see a box of nails?"

Second man sweeps hand over table. "Yeah. Lots."

Woman is more likely to find box of diamonds than box of nails in this Abbot and Costello mission.

"No problem. I'll just borrow a couple of nails, fix the trim and pick up another box when I hit Home Depot." She peruses a huge bin of random fasteners.

"Take what you need, sweetie. What will work?"

She spies a nail that will do. "Just a half-dozen roofers. They'll work."

A blank stare. From both men. "Roofers?" As if they're singing in church, perfectly synchronized and pitched.

Reaching in, she pulls out six nails. Opening her hand, displaying them on her palm, "Roofers. Fat head. Short. Long enough to tack the trim in place."

As she leaves, she hears man number one say to man number two, "Now, what is it I lost? So I can replace them for her?"

"Nickels. I think the nickel nails, she said. Yeah, that's it. Go get a box of nickels."

Welcome to my world.